


That Girl I Knew

by Scouts_Mockingbird



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, Because They're Adults Now, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, JD Lives, No More Teenaged Angst Bullshit, Slow Burn, Stalking, Ten Years Later, You Might Want To Brush Off Your Critical Thinking Skills For This One, movie canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-05-08 12:39:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 68,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14694420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scouts_Mockingbird/pseuds/Scouts_Mockingbird
Summary: Running away to Boston is the best way Veronica can think of to start over and finally start fixing and forgetting the mistakes she's made. Unfortunately, parts of her past refuse to be left behind, as she finds herself living in the same building as JD. Neither of them are the same people they used to know, and loneliness brings them together into an unexpected friendship. When a dark piece of Veronica's past comes back to haunt her, this friendship might be the only thing that can save them both.





	1. 5B

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you follow me on Tumblr, you know I've been dying to write this for ever, so here it finally is! Enjoy!

Taking a deep breath of air that smelled like exhaust fumes and cigarette smoke, Veronica grabbed her bag and walked into the small lobby of her new apartment building.

A greasy looking man was sitting behind a small counter, flipping through a magazine. He didn’t look up when Veronica entered.

She waited for a minute, but when he still failed to register her presence, she faked a small cough that seemed to bring him back to reality.

“Can I help you?”

Veronica forced a smile. “Hi, yes, I’m Veronica Sawyer; I’m moving in today?”

The man nodded slowly, taking in her words. “Right, the new broad coming in from… what was it, Cleveland?”

“Close enough,” Veronica replied, not bothering to specify the fact that she was moving from two short months in Columbus, after an even briefer stay with her parents in Sherwood.

Sharing her whole history was a bad idea.

“I’m Dino Panozzo, I own the building.”

Keeping her tight smile plastered in place, Veronica shook the man’s slightly damp hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Grunting, the man turned away from her to rifle through a drawer in the small, disorganized office space. “Here’s your key, you’ll be in five B; that was Helena’s old place, poor woman. They told you what happened, right?”

“I’m aware that someone died in the apartment, yes.” The real estate agent had been reluctant to tell her, but Veronica had reassured her. Ghosts were the least of her problems; though Veronica would be lying if she said nothing in her life had ever haunted her.

But those were bad thoughts, dark ones that she’d promised to leave in Ohio. Boston was her fresh start in a big city where no one could find her unless she let them.

And she wouldn’t let them.

“Anyway,” Dino was saying, “I got your boxes here, they mostly arrived yesterday, is that all your stuff?” He glanced down at the duffle bag she carried, his eyes suspicious, or maybe just confused.

“Yes,” Veronica said, shifting the bag to her other hand and ignoring the self-conscious flush on her face.

“Huh, I thought women had more stuff than that.” He shrugged and exited the office through a side door to join Veronica in the lobby. “I keep packages locked up in there, but regular mail comes in to those boxes. Let’s see… There you are.” He pointed to a box neatly labeled with her apartment number and handed her its key.

Veronica nodded, taking this in and wishing it could all be over. Her new landlord was a small man with a big personality and a loud voice, and she wished there was a way to make him stop for a second.

Over eighteen hours on a bus had made her irritable, though if she was being honest she’d been irritable for a long time before the bus ride too.

She kept her thoughts to herself as she followed Dino up five creaky flights of stairs that ran through the center of the building. They stopped on the fifth floor and he opened the door to her new home.

It both looked and smelled like a very old woman had died in there. The couches and curtains and tablecloths were all covered in faded floral fabrics and the scent of dust and mothballs hung in the air. It was hideous.

But it was hers, and Veronica couldn’t help but smile as she looked at it. With a little work, she could make it livable, and that was really all she needed.

“Thank you, this is great!” It was the most natural enthusiasm she’d managed to express in months, and Dino seemed slightly startled by it, as if he’d already gotten used to her sardonic silence in the five minutes they’d known each other.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. Just come on down to my office to pick up your boxes, normally I’d help you carry them, but it’s going to rain later and my knee’s acting up.”

Veronica offered a sympathetic nod, disguising her relief. “I don’t need any help anyway, thank you.” She only had a couple of boxes, as she’d been moving around for a while, and rarely bothered to accumulate stuff.

After Dino left, Veronica took a minute to walk from room to room in her new place. It was a simple one-bedroom apartment, with a cramped bedroom and bathroom positioned just off a small, functional kitchen and living space. A large, mottled wood dining table occupied most of the living space, and what’s left was covered by the couch and coffee table.

Picking her way carefully around the furniture, Veronica peered out the window, which looked out onto a fire escape, and beyond that was the street.

Her heart rate sped up when she noticed a man standing on the opposite street; was he watching her? Could he see her?

No. He was holding a dog leash; waiting for it to do it’s business and talking on a phone.

Several long, deep breaths later, Veronica was calm. “A new start,” She said to herself quietly. “No one can find you here. No one knows where you are.”

It was true. Only her parents and Heather Duke knew she had moved to Boston, and only her parents had her address.

A brief pang hit Veronica when she thought of Heather. Once upon a time, they’d been the most popular girls in school, ruling their senior year as all their classmates tried to get close to them. They’d been surrounded by people back then.

Of all those friends, Veronica had only stayed in touch with Heather. Even Betty Finn had stopped speaking to her.

“A new start,” Veronica repeated, pushing thoughts of her friends—former and otherwise—out of her mind.

With her apartment thoroughly explored, she made her way down to the lobby to retrieve the boxes she’d mailed days before she left Ohio. They were too big to take together, so she was forced to take three trips up and back down the seemingly endless flights of stairs. It was exhausting, but it was also nice to know that her apartment wasn’t easy to reach.

When she finally made it to the lobby to grab her third box, Veronica’s neck started to prickle.

The sharp, eerie feeling of being watched washed over her and she stood, frozen by fear.

Could it be…

She straightened her shoulders and fought to ignore the feeling. She was used to paranoia; she was used to feeling like she was being watched. This was just more of the same. _Only this time,_ she insisted to herself, _It isn’t real. It’s all in my head._

Reaching down, Veronica picked up her box with shaking hands and turned to retreat to the safety of her apartment, plowing into a man in the process.

She leapt back, panic setting back in. It was him. He’d found her already and—

“Oh, it’s you.” The words came out with a relieved breath, followed immediately by, “Oh my god, it’s you.”

Because Jason Dean was standing in front of her.

He was older now, but the years had not been unkind, and he looked good, if confused.

“Veronica?” He took a deep breath and raked his hands through his hair, a habit she remembered. “Holy shit.”

She nodded, “Yeah…”

There was a long pause as they stared at each other, sizing each other up or trying to come up with something to say; Veronica wasn’t sure which.

Gesturing towards the box, Veronica finally said, “I should go.”

“Yeah, um… Yeah. Do you need any help?”

Shaking her head vigorously, Veronica lifted the box. “No, thanks. I’m just going to go.”

And she ran.

She ran like a coward away from a part of her past she’d thought deeply buried.

Jason Dean.

She hadn’t seen him since the spring of her junior year, nearly ten full years ago.

The last time she’d spoken to him, they’d had one of the strangest conversations of her life, after which, she’d dropped him off at the hospital and never spoken to him again.

He’d moved away a couple weeks later, and she had pretended to all who asked—though only Heather Duke had thought to ask—that she didn’t care. Later that night, she’d downed too much vodka and let herself cry about everything for the first time.

There were no more tears now. She set her box down without opening it and flung herself onto the ugly pink floral couch so she could light a cigarette.

* * *

 

Veronica.

Veronica was here.

“Jesus,” JD muttered aloud as he paced the apartment he’d hastily retreated to after their clumsy reunion.

Briefly, he contemplated running to the corner store to buy a pack of cigarettes, but he brushed the thought away; he hadn’t smoked in years, and starting up again now would be the opposite of progress.

Wandering over to the wall, he lifted his phone off the cradle, dialing the first three numbers for his therapist’s office before he’d really processed everything.

He returned the phone to its place, reconsidering.

There was no sense in calling. He had an appointment in a couple days anyway; he could tell Dr. Cab then, and a couple days to think this over would be helpful.

“JD, I understand your worry, but I believe you’re capable of handling these things yourself now. Once, I would have been glad that you came to me before you made big decisions or rushed into something, but now I believe you can come to your own conclusions, or at least you should try to.” Cab’s words from the last time JD had called him about some crisis came back to him.

Could he handle this?

Could he deal with a situation that involved his past like this?

Looking at Veronica had brought up memories he’d thought long buried. She looked the same in some ways, and in others, she was a completely different person.

Did he look like a different person to her too?

His first instinct had scared him; he had wanted to talk to her, to ask how her life had been for the past ten years, but he had resisted the urge.

Getting close to Veronica was a mistake, it would only bring him back to who he had been the last time he’d been close to her, and god knew that would be a horror show.

But her eyes…

Everything about her manor had confused him, especially the first couple instants when she’d seen him. She had been scared at first, but that had melted into something like relief.

Spotting Nostradamus in the corner of the room, JD crouched down in front of him to stroke his head. “Who could she possibly know that scares her so much that _I_ would be a relief?”

The cat looked up at him with wise, dark yellow eyes, offering no answer, but the feeling of being listened to was enough for JD.

“That’s a slippery slope though Nosy, because the last time I tried to protect Veronica… well that’s not really what I was doing. I could have ruined her life. Fuck, I could have killed her.”

Nostradamus leaned his head further into JD’s hand, as if to say _I don’t mind that you’ve killed people._

Moving to his couch, JD let himself think about his weeks in Sherwood in the spring of eighty-nine, and about Veronica Sawyer.

Of course, that line of thought brought him to the front steps of Westerburg High.

A bomb strapped to his chest, ticking down. “Pretend I did blow up the school. All the schools. Now that you’re dead, what are you going to do with your life?”

To his surprise, and maybe disappointment, Veronica had pulled a cigarette from her pocket, holding it up with a small, ironic smile.

The clock continued to tick and she stood, watching and waiting. He waited too; waited for her to say something to put this to a stop.

More seconds passed. He knew he only had a few left. _Stop me, Veronica. Stop this._

She didn’t.

The bomb stopped beeping and he looked down at it. The timer had frozen.

JD looked up at Veronica, and finally saw this moment for what it was, an absurd game of chicken that he would lose no matter what.

“You’re really not going to stop me, are you?”

She looked a little confused by his words, but only for an instant. “No. I’m not.”

All his intent deflated and he pulled the bomb away from his chest, dismantling it somewhat and tossing the pieces into the bushes. Then he joined Veronica on the stairs.

They sat next to each other and she offered him the cigarette, which he lit before handing it back to her. Passing it back and forth, they sat in silence for several minutes; finally she stood up.

“I’m going to take you to the hospital.”

JD nodded and accepted the hand she offered him, and allowed her to help him stagger to her car. Now that he wasn’t about to die, the pain from where she’d shot him was more noticeable.

Somewhere on the way to the hospital, JD had passed out, when he’d woken up, his father was there and pissed, and Veronica was long gone.

That was the last time he’d spoken to her in ten years, though he’d thought about her often.

She was the reason he’d turned his life around. He thought he’d loved her, in some way, back then. He knew he’d loved her on those stairs.

“You’ve got power,” He’d said, and he had meant it. That power had made her more beautiful than she had been before, almost painful to look at, though that could have been the blood loss.

Nostradamus jumped onto his lap, dragging him forcefully back into the present, demanding attention and probably food.

JD stroked his head. “I hurt her, Nosy. The best thing I can do is make sure I never do that again.”

Smiling slightly, JD stood, his mind made up as to the best course of action. It was time to finally give Veronica the choice he’d never given her back then.

It took three drafts to make the note good enough, and after a quick stop at the corner store for a gift that may have meant nothing, or maybe something he wasn’t sure he wanted to say. He left both in front of what had been Mrs. Howell’s apartment, knocked once, and ran back to his apartment so that he wouldn’t have to face her.

Where he had once thought himself to be a rebel, Jason Dean now knew that he had been a coward all along.

He didn’t mind so much.

* * *

 

Veronica heard the knock and approached her door cautiously, peering into the peephole, and opening the door carefully she saw the items that had been left on the ground.

They could only be from JD. Only he would have known about her fondness for cherry slushies, though she was surprised he remembered it. He had also left a note, which she brought inside and read while she sipped her slushie.

_Dear Veronica,_

_There’s no way to apologize for everything that happened back then, and even if there was, I’m not sure I could. I want you to know, though, that I regret the many ways I hurt you, and I’ll never be as grateful to anyone as I am to you for stopping me that day. I can’t repay that debt, but I can offer you this; I have somewhere I can move, so you can live here in peace. I’m sure you don’t want me anywhere near your life, and rightfully so. If there’s anything else I can do, just ask. I owe you more than I can say._

_JD_

Veronica read the letter twice, then once more for good measure. A letter was easy to fake—Veronica knew that better than most people—but this one felt genuine to her, despite the fact that it sounded nothing like the JD she’d known.

If anything in this was true, he had changed completely.

Was it worth giving him a second chance?

No. Fuck no. Absolutely not.

However, it would be nice to know someone in the city. To have someone who might notice if something happened to her.

Not bothering to take the time to think things through, Veronica dug around for a pen and a piece of paper, and sat at the dining room table to write, smiling as she did so.

* * *

 

The letter appeared under his door at some point when JD wasn’t in the living room. Nostradamus found it first, and sat there yelling at it until JD came in to see what was wrong.

He hadn’t expected Veronica to write a reply, but he smiled slightly as he looked at her. Perhaps her tired eyes and pale, thin frame were hiding the same fire he’d seen in her when they’d first met.

Scanning the letter, he found her reply almost as surprising as seeing her in the lobby had been.

_JD,_

_There’s no need to move out. This isn’t high school anymore._

_Veronica._

Smiling, JD tucked the letter into his pocket and tried to ignore the rather terrifying implications of the fact that she had written the letter in his handwriting.


	2. Strange Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys want to know how much I love you? I'm sneaking around at a family reunion, risking getting outed as a fanfic writer to my entire extended family just to post this. This chapter is dedicated to my many wonderful new followers on Tumbler; I don't know why you're there, but I appreciate you. Enjoy!

It took less effort to avoid JD than Veronica had thought. She kept her schedule so erratic that she rarely ran into any of her neighbors, much less the one she really wanted to stay away from.

Her schedule wasn’t much. Being new in the city she didn’t have many friends to meet up with, and her work was mostly done from home, and only one of the papers she wrote for bothered requiring her to come in more than once a month to make sure she was on top of everything. She hadn’t missed a deadline yet and she didn’t plan on it.

The first time she ran into him, it was early in the morning, she was getting the mail she’d forgotten to retrieve yesterday, and he was coming into the lobby. He was sweating and breathing hard, which almost disguised the redness that crept into his cheeks when he saw her.

“Veronica.” He nodded once, rather awkwardly, and walked past her to the stairs.

She watched him go without a word, her heard skipping in her chest.

A part of her wanted to try to resolve things with him, to reach some kind of understanding, but she remembered everything too well. There was no way to forget the way he’d looked in Westerburg’s boiler room, desperate, stubborn, and terrifying as he’d tried to make her believe that blowing up the school was the best option, that it even was an option to begin with.

Veronica sighed and looked at her mail, hoping it might contain something distracting enough to take her mind off of JD. She didn’t want to think about him. Most of her mail was forwarded from the office, sent in by lonely people who had no one else to ask for advice.

At least some of their problems were interesting and required some thought, without ever managing to be as complicated as Veronica’s own problems. Other people were so much simpler than her; sometimes she envied them.

Work kept her busy for the rest of the day, but by the time the sun was setting, she was desperate for the cigarette she’d been putting off. Climbing out onto her fire escape, Veronica nestled into the comfortable shadows and lit her cigarette, watching the smoke curl up into the iron-colored sky.

As she looked up, a small movement caught her eye. There was a cat on the fire escape above her, staring through the grate and flicking its tail.

“Hello,” She said, waving at it with her free hand. “Who do you belong to?”

The cat stared back, and Veronica had the odd sensation that it was listening to her.

She called out again, keeping her voice fairly low to avoid bothering her elderly neighbors. “Hey kitty, come down here.” She waved her hand again, hoping it would come closer; she’d had cats growing up, and seeing this one made her miss the warm weight of a cat resting on her lap.

For a minute, she thought the cat would run away, but it picked its way carefully down the narrow ladder-like stairs and made its way towards her. In the dim light, all Veronica could tell was that it was gray, and definitely not a stray. It was well fed and clean, though a tear in his ear suggested that he’d been in a fight at some point.

“You’re very handsome, aren’t you,” Veronica said, reaching for him. He allowed her to pet him, leaning into her hand when she found the right spot under his chin.

Two floors below them, both Veronica and the cat noticed lights coming on. The cat stood up and dashed away to paw at the window, and Veronica watched, waiting until the window opened and the cat had returned safely home.

Wondering who owned apartment three B, Veronica finished her cigarette and returned to her apartment, glad to be back where it was warm, rather than the cool autumn night.

It was late, and sleep felt far away, so Veronica grabbed a bottle of vodka from the kitchen and took a few too-large swallows, not bothering to get a glass. She savored the sting from the cheap alcohol as it went down her throat.

After several more swallows, her mind and body had gone pleasantly slow, and she went to sleep, dreaming of a cat with yellow eyes and a coat the color of the night sky standing guard at the end of her bed, protecting her from everything she wanted to avoid.

Morning came early, and with a slight headache that she tried to ignore. Her habit of leaning on vodka as a sleeping aid was worrying, but she had little choice. At least she was sleeping; she still remembered the months where she’d lain awake at night, hugging her knees and waiting for someone to kick her door down.

“I’m safe now,” She said out loud. Hearing her voice hang in the stale air of her apartment, Veronica decided she would keep her mouth shut from now on. The words weren’t comforting if they floated like a ghost in her empty home.

A soft sound at her living room window caught her attention. The cat that had kept her company the night before had returned, and appeared to be asking for admittance to her apartment.

Unwilling to refuse any companionship, Veronica opened the window and watched as the cat entered her apartment. He twined around her legs a couple times before wandering into the kitchen and making a full lap of her place, exploring it.

With a satisfied air, he returned to the window, rubbing against her one more time before he leapt out the window and returned once more to the third floor apartment he’d entered the last night.

Veronica wasn’t in the habit of going to the lobby in the morning, but curiosity about the cat made her too eager to wait for a less crowded time, so she ventured down and looked at the mailboxes. Inscribed neatly next to the box for three B was the name “J. Dean”.

The cat belonged to JD. In a weird way, it made sense; he’d once saved her from shooting her own cat with “ich luge” bullets. A part of her had always hoped that he’d done it for her and the cat’s sake, rather than to avoid revealing his lie. She’d relied on little things like that, searching for good in him in the months after they’d broken up and he’d left town.

She hadn’t thought she’d ever get any proof, but now it was staring her in the face. Tucking the new information carefully alongside her previous revelation that he enjoyed jogging, Veronica returned upstairs, walking past the third floor landing more slowly than she usually did, though she couldn’t have explained why.

 _Loneliness has made you stupid,_ she thought harshly as she continued up the stairs and into her apartment.

The rest of the day and all of the next day passed with the usual monotony. She worked, she drank, and she slept, occasionally stopping to eat when she found the will to get up and practice cooking something.

She didn’t see the cat again until three days after its visit. Once again, she was smoking on the fire escape, hiding in shadows and watching shadowy figures pass by on the sidewalk below.

A man was passing by her building just a little too slowly, and Veronica tensed, tucking herself further back into the shadows to be absolutely certain that he couldn’t see her, just in case.

With all her focus on hiding, she didn’t notice the cat before he pawed at her knee, politely asking for admittance onto her lap. Veronica allowed it, feeling comforted both by the cat’s presence and also by the fact that the man moved on down the street, leaving her in peace.

Her comfort didn’t last, however, as Veronica heard the creak of the window being opened, and the cat leapt off her lap to return to his home.

Perhaps her loneliness finally got the best of her, or maybe she was possessed by a familiar sort of madness, but the dark sky above her suddenly felt too vast and empty, and Veronica was desperate for company.

She followed the cat down, and climbed into Jason Dean’s brightly lit living room.

He was leaning over a table, drawing on an enormous sheet of paper, and he leapt approximately four feet into the air when he saw her.

“Holy shit, Veronica, what the fuck?” He gasped out, breathing like he’d run a race.

Whatever reception she’d been expecting, this wasn’t it, and Veronica couldn’t hold in her laugh. Jason Dean, former teenaged terror, was scared of _her._

A quip about poor etiquette was on her lips, but she abandoned it. This wasn’t about the past; it couldn’t be if she wanted to have any kind of civil interaction with him. “What’s the cat’s name?”

It wasn’t really a greeting, and this was already very, very weird, but at least she’d said something, and she really did want to know his name.

“Nostradamus,” He answered mechanically, still staring at her in shock. “I don’t want to be rude, but… what the fuck are you doing here?”

Veronica shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “I got bored. I met your cat the other night and I was curious, I guess. I didn’t think you were the type for pets.”

“I wasn’t really. I had a hamster, back then, but when he died I didn’t get another. Nostradamus just showed up one day and didn’t leave, so I gave him a name. I hope he didn’t bother you.”

She shook her head and reached down to pet the cat. “No, he kept me company while I was smoking. I’ve always liked cats.”

“Right, you had one…” He trailed off, glancing up as if checking to see if referencing their history was off-limits.

“JFK,” She reminded him, and somehow that felt like giving him permission to acknowledge that once, long ago, they had known each other. “He died my freshman year of college.”

“Where did you go?” He asked.

“Northwestern. Heather Duke and I both went, actually.”

JD cracked a smile, “Jesus, I haven’t thought about her in years. How is she, do you still talk?”

“Yeah, we were roommates in college,” Veronica left out how close they’d really been. Somehow that detail—telling him about her relationship—felt far too personal for this awkward meeting. “She majored in business and now she’s climbing the corporate ladder.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all.” He laughed.

When the silence lapsed on too long, Veronica asked, “What about you?”

Shrugging, JD looked away from her, glancing at the papers on his table. “I went to NYU and ended up studying architecture. I’ve been doing that ever since.”

He didn’t open up any further, and she didn’t ask him to, instead choosing to wander around inspecting his living room, Nostradamus trailing behind her.

***

JD had known from the second he’d woken up that it wasn’t going to be a good day. There was something distinctly ominous to waking up to an overly self-satisfied cat standing on your chest, and sure enough, when he’d cracked his eyes open and turned his head to the side, there was an eviscerated mouse lying on the pillow next to his.

“Nosy, that’s fucking disgusting.”

Nostradamus, usually so human in the way he looked at JD, did not lose his air of satisfaction. Nothing would convince him that he hadn’t done a good job.

The rest of the day had been average and boring, until Veronica had climbed through his window, following behind Nostradamus.

His first thought upon seeing her—after getting over the initial shock—was, _That fucking cat is a curse._ His next was, _Well what the fuck do I do now?_

But she’d acted so natural, as though there was nothing strange about her dropping into his living room at eleven at night. Something about her tired eyes and worn clothes had spoken to him, and he wondered if maybe she was as lonely as he was.

So he’d chatted and made small talk, trying to see if he could see past the wall of casualness that she’d put up. For a second when they’d spoken about Duke, he’d seen warmth that hadn’t been there before. That wasn’t faked.

Now, some of the armor slipped away as she wandered through his apartment, touching his mismatched leather couch and chairs, and staring for far too long at the framed plans on the far wall.

“Did you draw these?” She gestured to them, and seemed genuinely curious.

So he nodded, and let a little pride sneak into his voice. “Yeah, they were part of a project I had to do, drawing your childhood home from memory. I don’t remember any of the houses we lived in that well, so I just made it up. I guess I just liked how it turned out.”

Veronica stepped closer, and inspected all of his carefully drawn lines and symbols, his meticulously crafted key that translated inches into feet. It felt strangely intimate to have her look at that, like perhaps she might see into his head if she looked close enough.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He thought briefly about the contents of his fridge, and frowned; hopefully she wasn’t picky. “I’m pretty sure I have beer, coffee, and water.”

He noticed her fight a smile. “Coffee sounds good, if you don’t mind.”

Leaving her to continue her tour of his apartment, JD went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. For a moment, Nostradamus was torn about who to follow, and JD was pleased when the cat followed him.

While the coffee was brewing, Veronica entered the kitchen, still with the same vaguely curious expression. She took in his barren countertops and the handful of unwashed dishes in the sink. “Do you cook at all?”

Shaking his head, he turned to play with the coffee pot, as if having something to do would dispel the strangeness of the situation.

Veronica Sawyer was in his kitchen, and even though he’d been speaking to her for several minutes now, it still didn’t feel real.

“I’m trying to learn how to cook,” She said. “It’s harder than I thought.”

He nodded. “I never learned; I eat a lot of takeout.”

A small smile played around her lips. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

It was fairly predictable. He hadn’t bothered learning to cook during all the years he was fending for himself before he met her, and nothing had happened to change his stance in the years after.

They were quiet for a while, but it was somehow less uncomfortable than it had been.

“Do you still talk to your dad?” She asked abruptly, resurrecting the awkwardness.

Rubbing the back of his neck and trying to mask his discomfort, JD shook his head. “He died a couple months after I turned eighteen.”

He should have expected the suspicion that crossed her features. Veronica was smart, and she knew him, knew what he was capable of. It made perfect sense for her to think what many people had thought back then.

“I didn’t kill him.” He stated it plainly. “He took some bad diet pills that fucked up his heart, and he died. He wasn’t the only one; there were a bunch of people. The lawsuit was huge.”

It had been a mess, and he’d hated every second of it, but he’d come out with his father’s money, and plenty more from compensation.

Veronica’s face flushed. “I didn’t think—“

“Yes you did. It’s okay; I get it. You weren’t the only one to think that.” In fact, the police in the town he’d been living in at the time had thought the same thing, and had arrested JD, but he opted not to tell Veronica that.

Whatever they were doing, it was fragile at best, and stories about being arrested weren’t likely to help.

“I’m sorry,” Veronica said, and JD got the feeling that neither of them really knew what she was apologizing for. He couldn’t imagine she was really sorry that Bud was dead. JD certainly wasn’t.

He poured coffee into mugs and silently returned to the living room. Glancing down at the plans he’d abandoned on his table, he asked, “So what do you do?”

Veronica sighed heavily. “You’re going to laugh.”

Not the answer he’d been expecting. “Now I really have to know.”

“Have you heard of the ‘Helpful Heather’ column in the Herald?”

She was right; JD laughed. “You write that?”

“And a couple others like it. I specialize in advice columns.”

He stared, shocked and amused, at her. Though he was desperate for it, she didn’t offer any more information.

Finally, she sighed again. “Okay, fine. I just find other people’s problems easier to solve than my own. I studied journalism and creative writing at school and this is a little bit of both. It pays the bills and I’m good at it, okay? And I didn’t pick the name! She’s been called helpful Heather for years, I’m just the latest in a line of writers.”

“You don’t have to be defensive,” He said, finally managing to contain his smile. It made sense for her, in an odd way. Back then; they’d been all about fixing problems they encountered. Perhaps she’d finally found a productive way to do that. “You must get a lot of weird mail.”

She nodded. “My editor goes through a lot of it for me, and picks a few of the best ones to send to me to make the final call about which ones get answered, but she also like to pass along the really crazy ones when she thinks they’re funny.” She paused for so long he almost tried to change the topic, but then she said, “I’ll bring some of them by some time, you might think they’re funny.”

He swallowed hard; almost choking on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. She wanted to come again. “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

Silence fell again, but this time he felt that the ice was well and truly broken. They drank coffee and petted his cat and it was normal, which was the strangest thing about a very strange night.

“I killed Heather Chandler, Ram Sweeney, and Kurt Kelly.” Veronica said, after almost an hour of barely speaking.

JD stared, shocked. He’d thought she was about to doze off on his couch, but her eyes were clear as she looked at him. So he nodded. “We did.”

“I’ve never said those words out loud.”

“Neither have I.”

She looked up at him, and her eyes were tired and looked far older than he knew she was. “It feels good to finally say it.”


	3. Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to the anonymous person who sent in the Helpful Heather letter. If you'd like to see your problems featured in this story (and receive advice from Veronica) send me a message on my Tumblr (@Scouts-mockingbird). Enjoy!

_Dear Helpful Heather, I told a close friend that I have romantic feelings for him, and he acknowledged the spark between us, but said he wasn't in a good place for a relationship. I respect that and I still want to be his friend, but trying to push those feelings away is really hard. I've known him since we were kids and I don't want to lose one of my closest friends. How do I let go and accept his friendship for what it is?_

_Yours,_

_Just Friends_

Veronica read over the letter from this week. They had all been love related, so she’d chosen the least romantic she could find. The last thing she wanted was to think about love, romance, or relationships.

Of course, half of the people who wrote to “Heather” or any of her other advice column handles were lonely and desperate for affection, so naturally they were all looking for boyfriends or girlfriends.

She sighed as she reread the letter and poised her hands over the keyboard to write her answer. Be helpful, be kind, be a friend. It was a simple job really, and far easier than what a lot of her journalism classmates were currently doing.

_Dear Just Friends,_

_Pushing away feelings is hard, and perhaps not as productive as you want it to be. The best thing you can do is accept your feelings._

That was good, sound advice, though not something Veronica herself had ever managed to put into practice.

_Things have changed between you and your friend, that is inevitable, but change doesn’t have to be bad. You don’t have to lose him, so long as you realize that things might need to be a little different than they were before. Someday, with time, your feelings will change again; it’s a matter of patience and persistence._

_Yours truly,_

_Heather_

Once she was satisfied with her advice, she sent it to her editor for reviewing. It would appear in the paper in a few days’ time, hopefully helping the person who’d sent it.

The truth was, Veronica usually didn’t think she was ‘helpful’ at all. But her editor mentioned that people were reacting positively to her column, so she kept writing them.

Glancing down at the pile of letters she still had, Veronica considered starting another, but she still couldn’t bring herself to attack the romantic questions, so she left the pile where it was and gathered an armful of laundry off her floor and furniture to wash.

Four in the afternoon was hardly a normal time to do laundry, so the basement was blissfully empty when she got there. Though her neighbors seemed nice enough, she’d found they were just a little too interested in her life; she’d been asked if she was single no less than four times, and one of the old ladies had even asked if she’d met “The nice gentleman on the third floor”.

An old lady referring to JD as a nice gentleman was so absurd to Veronica she’d nearly laughed in the woman’s face. Instead, she’d answered quickly and walked away. It was better to be called rude than to endure her elderly neighbors trying to set her up with her ex boyfriend.

Not that JD was the same as he’d been back then, or at least she didn’t think he was. He’d seemed different when she’d casually broken into his apartment a few days ago, an act of insanity she hadn’t repeated.

She slammed the washing machine door closed and began the trudge back up to her apartment. When she passed JD’s door, she found herself wondering what he was doing, before stepping down hard on the thought.

No matter how lonely she was, it wasn’t worth bringing JD back into her life. Grabbing a bottle of vodka off the shelf, Veronica laughed ruefully; even he didn’t deserve that.

* * *

Sitting in his therapist’s waiting room, JD tried to convince himself that his sudden interest in Helpful Heather didn’t have anything to do with Veronica, but he failed completely.

He couldn’t really recognize her voice in the cheerful words advising some woman about whether or not to invite her ex to her wedding (she said it was probably a bad idea), and he tossed the paper aside.

“Looking for advice?” Dr. Cab’s eyebrow arched over his glasses, indicating the paper JD had just discarded. “I’ve never seen you touch the paper before.”

Thinking back, JD realized that Cab was—as usual—right; he never looked at the paper when he was waiting. He either brought his own book or stared off into space, imagine a more effective layout for the office. “No, my uh, friend writes it.” Calling Veronica a friend was an almost ridiculous exaggeration, but correcting it now would probably make things worse, or at least more revealing.

Cab’s eyebrows arched even higher as he led JD back to his office. “A friend, that’s interesting.”

“I have friends,” JD said, more defensively than he meant to.

Settling into his seat, Cab nodded. “Yes, but you don’t talk about them often, and I rarely get the sense that you like them very much. This one you’re taking an interest in, looking at his work.”

“Her,” JD corrected. “She’s not really… we’re not close, she’s just my neighbor.” And ex-girlfriend, among other things.

“Would you like to be?”

JD took a long time to answer that question, something Cab was used to from their many sessions. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to unpack that a bit for me?”

Cab always asked him things that way _Would you like to_ , _Do you want to_. JD liked that he was asked whether or not he wanted to answer; answers were never demanded.

“Veronica… I knew her in high school. We were close, but we were bad for each other. I kind of… ruined her life, I think.”

“Do you think you deserve all of the blame for that? We’ve talked about how sometimes you tend to be too harsh with yourself, especially when it comes to your past actions.”

“I have to be,” JD answered reflexively.

“Why?” Cab’s voice was calm, as always and his posture remained neutral, but JD sensed a slightly increased interest, and it made him wary. The man was too easy to talk to sometimes, and JD worried that he might accidentally say too much.

He breathed deeply a few times, sorting through his answer. “If I forgive myself for what I did back then, for who I was back then, then I might start to think it’s okay for me to be like that again.”

Cab nodded slowly. “Can I ask what it was that you did?”

“No.”

Still nodding, Cab seemed to accept that. “Alright.

JD looked up, searching his face, “Really?”

“Yes, really. You have a habit of saying you don’t want to talk about things—your mother, for example—and then finding ways of talking about it anyway. I’m used to sorting through it.”

The feeling of being easily read was back, and it crawled up JD’s spine like ants, making him shift in his seat.

“So, Veronica,” Cab continued, without waiting for a response from JD. “What made you think about her recently?”

“She moved into my apartment building.” In order to avoid doing what Cab had just told him he often did, JD kept his answer short.

“And before that, had you thought about her?”

Every damn day. “Sometimes. She was… she was important to me, back then, and sometimes I wondered what happened to her. I never thought I’d find out.” JD sighed, thinking of the Veronica’s pale face and tired, anxious eyes. It wasn’t what he’d pictured, when he’d imagined her.

“Where did you go just then?” Cab asked, tilting his head and searching JD’s face.

Hating the feeling of being scrutinized, JD looked away, glancing out the window at the street below and talking to the rusty car he could see parked outside. “She doesn’t look well. I feel like something is wrong, but I know it’s not my place to try to do anything about it.”

“It’s insightful of you to recognize that this isn’t your problem to fix, JD. When you first started coming to me, you wanted to fix every problem the world threw at you, and your methods… well some of the things you suggested were worrisome.”

Worrisome was Cab’s way of saying “Fucking insane,” apparently, and Cab didn’t even know the extent of some things JD had thought about doing.

Unaware of JD’s lack of attention, Cab kept talking. “The fact that you see someone you believe needs help, but recognize that your interference may not be welcome is very significant progress. I hope that’s not lost on you.”

“It’s not enough,” JD muttered, though the fact that he was sitting only feet away from his therapist meant that his words didn’t go unheard.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” Cab offered, something he’d mentioned on many occasions when JD was frustrated with his progress.

“But it burned in one,” JD answered. “I don’t want that to happen to my progress. If there was more, if it was better, maybe it would change something.”

“Change something with Veronica?”

Yet another disarming question; they were starting to piss JD off a little. “Maybe.”

But the truth was, it wasn’t just Veronica. It was anyone. He was aware of the fact that the closest meaningful relationship he had was with his cat, and besides that, the only people he talked to were his elderly neighbors. Even the people from work he occasionally called friends hardly knew anything about him. And he liked it that way.

“I was fine before Veronica,” He said, slowly, thinking out each word so that he wouldn’t say too much. “I was fine until I met her, and then it was like this dam broke, and suddenly I just couldn’t live with the world the way it was. I wanted to change things—to change everything—but I didn’t know how.”

Cab nodded. “Would it be safe to say—and don’t let me put words in your mouth—that you’re afraid getting close to her will break that dam again?”

JD just nodded; he thought that should be obvious.

“I want to move on, because I think you’re shutting down on this topic, but I want you to consider the possibility that we’ve done more here than just build a dam. It’s just something to think about.”

After his session, JD stopped on the way home for food, as he planned on spending the rest of the afternoon drafting plans for his latest project, and he doubted he’d be leaving his apartment once he got started.

He was right, and he went for several hours without thinking about anything aside from layouts, and window plans, and stair placement. The world shrunk down to clean lines in dark graphite and everything was simple.

Until he hit a block. The only original thing he’d put into an otherwise entirely conventional—and marketable—design wasn’t fitting, and he couldn’t find a way to fix the issue without omitting it altogether. Too stubborn to get rid of it completely, he tossed his pencil across the room in frustration, much to the consternation of his cat.

With an irritated twitch of his tail, Nostradamus went to the window and stood, politely waiting for JD to open it for him.

“Sick of me?” He asked, standing to scratch the cat’s head, “Yeah, me too buddy.” He opened the window and watched Nostradamus slink off into the night.

Breathing deep, he caught a faint smell of cigarette smoke, and something stupid and hopeful in him made him look up. Sure enough, tucked into a shadow and barely visible two floors above him, he could see a person’s shape and the faint glow of a lit cigarette.

“Veronica?”

The shadow started, shifting slightly towards him. “JD. Hi.”

“Hi. Is Nostradamus up with you? I didn’t see which way he ran.” That was a lie, he’d seen the cat go towards her, but he couldn’t think of a good reason to talk to her.

“He’s here but about to go up further, should I catch him?”

“No, he’s okay; I was just checking.” He fell silent, watching the faint light from the ember of her cigarette carve a path through the darkness, back and forth towards and away from her mouth.

He wasn’t sure what made him blurt out, “Do you want to come down? I just hit a standstill with work.”

It was hard to see her, but he thought she might have shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

Carefully, she made her way down the steep, rusty metal stairs to his floor and he helped her through his window.

Once she was in his brightly lit apartment, the strangeness of the situation settled over both of them. The first time she’d come here had been so surreal JD sometimes questioned whether or not it had actually happened. This was the opposite; everything was too real, jarringly so.

She said nothing, and the silence felt less awkward than speaking would have, so he let it stretch on.

“Have you read all of these?” She asked, pointing to his bookshelves.

He shrugged. “Most of them. I used to spend a lot of time at libraries, but I didn’t own most of my favorites. When I got my own place and some money, they were the first things I bought.”

She crossed the room to examine the shelves and he stood next to her, trying to peruse his collection through her eyes.

“A little pretentious?” He asked, glancing at his shelves, weighted down by Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, and Goethe, with very few things that had been written in the last century.

Veronica nodded, but a hint of a smile played around her lips. “Yes.”

Stepping away from the shelves, Veronica examined the plans he’d abandoned earlier. “What’s this going to be?”

“A loft, the owner has no idea what she wants.” He let some of his frustration with the job come out, glancing down at his boring design.

“That seems like it would be good though; you can do what you want.”

Technically that was true, but he hadn’t been considering it in that light. It wasn’t the kind of job he normally wanted, so he hadn’t been approaching it with his usual verve. “I don’t know. I need her to like it or I don’t get paid.”

Veronica scoffed. “Seems like you’re doing fine.”

JD cringed, turning away from her. He didn’t like to think too hard about his finances; too much of his money had been Bud’s, and the idea of using it twisted his stomach.

Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t ask about his reaction, or apologize for what she’d said. Not that he expected her to.

“Can I get you coffee or something?” He said abruptly, eager to change the topic.

“No thanks.”

The need to step away for a second was too great for him to bother with manners. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to make some.”

* * *

Veronica watched JD walk into the kitchen without following him, silently berating herself for taking him up on his offer for the millionth time since she’d climbed through the window.

The first time had been a mistake made because of loneliness, this was made because she was still lonely and more than a little drunk. Though she hadn’t regretted last time, she regretted this. Once was random, twice might start to mean something. Looking around, Veronica could see that—whether it was an act or not—JD was doing well; she didn’t want to drag him into her mess of a life.

Wanting to shake of those thoughts, Veronica thought about pacing, but didn’t want him to catch her, so she wandered aimlessly around his apartment, looking at shelves and pictures on the walls, searching for some clue that he wasn’t the boy she remembered, or maybe that he was.

One wall was covered in a massive copy of an architecture plan, and she saw his signature in the corner. Part of her wanted to think it was arrogant to display his work like it was art, but even she had to admit that the plans were impressive. A part of her wished she understood more of the shorthand symbols he used so she could get a clearer picture of the house.

Abandoning the attempt, she moved on to a small side table with a drawer. She ignored her mother’s voice in her head, telling her that this was terrible manners and opened the drawer.

He had a gun.

A part of her realized it was stupid to feel surprised. Another part of her had really believed—or had wanted to believe—that he was different.

“It was my dad’s.” He explained from the doorway, she wondered how long he’d been watching her. “It was with his stuff.”

“It looks like you got rid of a lot of his stuff, why keep this?” Veronica closed the drawer and stepped back.

He looked past her and past the table, seeming to stare straight through the wall. “I was angry or I was scared, or I thought maybe I’d need it. I don’t really know. Those first few months after he died were so confusing, and then college and moving here… You’re right, I did get rid of most of his stuff, but I kept that.”

Veronica’s stomach twisted. “Did you think you’d have to use it on someone else?” She thought about Kurt and Ram, and how they’d looked, pale and mostly naked, dead on the forest floor. But another part of her wondered if maybe…

“No,” He insisted. “I’ve never thought about it, honestly. I mean… sure, when I was at school—college, I mean—there were some assholes, and occasionally I thought… But I never did, and I wouldn’t, Veronica. Not anymore.”

He seemed sincere. “Why not.”

“It’s a long story.” For the first time, he looked away, avoiding her gaze.

“I have all night.”

JD sighed, long and loud. “Because of you. You saved my life, Veronica, a life that must have seemed pretty worthless at that point, and I just… I guess I wanted to earn that.”

For the second time that night, Veronica’s stomach twisted painfully, this time with guilt. “I wasn’t going to save you, JD.”

“I know. I know that, I just… you took me to the hospital, and… before that, if I hadn’t stopped, you were going to stay with me. That,” He paused for another long breath, “That means more than you realize.”

“How ironic,” Veronica muttered, turning away from him. He’d rebuilt his life because of her, and hers had fallen apart, because of him and because of others. And because of her.

He didn’t ask what she meant, and she was glad, because she wouldn’t have explained it. Instead he walked past her to the window, opening it wider so he could lean out and whistle, snapping his fingers.

Nostradamus trotted in moments later, looking between the two of them before deciding he wanted nothing to do with it. He curled up on the couch, ignoring their tension completely.

“Veronica,” JD said, dragging his hand through his hair, “This is my life now, those plans, and this apartment, the cat and my therapist. That’s it. I know what I was, but… I’m trying not to be that. The gun is just a random thing I still have because I’m an idiot who likes to believe that if someone broke in or threatened me, I could use it against them.”

That hit Veronica, and suddenly the tension dropped from her shoulders. If someone threatened him…

Veronica knew what he was capable of and, even though she knew it shouldn’t, that made her feel safer suddenly.

Safe. That was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He nodded, and she had no idea what was going on in his head, but he didn’t look angry and he didn’t ask her to leave.

She endured another long silence before he said, “I’m going to work on these a little,” He gestured to the plans on the table. “You can stay if you want.”

The prospect of her ugly, empty apartment was miserable, so Veronica sat on the couch next to Nostradamus and was surprised and pleased when the cat settled into her lap, purring contentedly.

She had forgotten how comforting the weight, warmth, and soft vibration of a satisfied cat could be, and something about that and her newfound feeling of safety was like a drug. She fell asleep listening to the sound of JD’s pencil on paper.

 


	4. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I want to thank a ton of people who've been super supportive of me lately, but I'm too damn tired. Sorry about this chapter, it's not really all I wanted it to be. Enjoy

Veronica Sawyer knew she was a coward. She believed that every person only got to cheat death so many times, and she had used up her fair share at the ripe old age of seventeen. Since then, she had avoided obvious risks, and run away from as many uncomfortable situations as possible.

So when she found herself sneaking out of Jason Dean’s apartment in the early hours of the morning, it was hardly a surprise. What was a surprise was the blanket that had been laid over her while she was asleep. Nostradamus was a smart cat, but she doubted he had the capacity for that, so that left only one person who could have done that, and something about JD doing anything even remotely thoughtful for her made her nervous.

So she snuck away before he woke up and studiously avoided going anywhere she thought he might be, though she couldn’t help but slip out on the fire escape at night to smoke and pet his cat.

It worked, and she didn’t see him for three days. On the fourth day, however, she had to go into the Herald office for a writers’ meeting and to discuss Helpful Heather’s theme for the next couple weeks.

Unfortunately, she woke up late, and managed to make it to the bus stop just in time to get stuck in a cloud of exhaust fumes as the bus drove away.

“Shit!” There wouldn’t be another bus for twenty minutes at least, and by then she’d be so late for the meeting it was almost pointless to go. Missing meetings is how easily replaceable writers got fired.

“Need a ride?”

No. Fuck no. Not this. Not now. Surely the universe wouldn’t do this to her? Veronica squeezed her eyes shut, desperately thinking that if the universe were just at all, he wouldn’t be there when she opened them.

But no, when she opened her eyes, Jason Dean was on the street in front of her, sitting on his motorcycle, patiently waiting for her to answer.

She sighed, not wanting to owe him anything, and still hoping to avoid talking about the fact that she’d passed out in his apartment, but desperately needing to keep this job. “I…”

He smiled, “Come on, Veronica, I know you’ve always loved the bike.”

She loved her job too, despite everything. And it would be good for her to see and talk to her coworkers for once.

And he was right; she really did love the bike.

“Yeah, thanks.”

The ride was fast and exhilarating, waking her up more effectively than her two cups of coffee. It even wasn’t totally weird that she was holding onto JD and for a second, it was almost like ten years hadn’t passed and they were just two idiot kids again.

She shook that thought away as fast as she good, letting it fly away in the wind as they drove.

She wished the past were as easy to let go of.

JD stopped in front of the large building that housed the Herald offices, and she climbed off the bike more clumsily than she would have liked. “Thank you for the ride.”

He nodded. “No problem, do you need a lift back? I can meet you here later.”

Veronica shook her head. “No. I’ll just catch the bus back.” Realizing that it had come out sharper than she’d wanted to, she added, “But thank you, really.”

“Take care, Veronica.” He took the helmet from her and stored it carefully in the side box, before revving the engine once and turning back into traffic.

She watched him go for a second, unsure if she was happy or upset that he hadn’t said he would see her later.

“Holy shit, who was _that_?” One of Veronica’s colleagues—Colleen? Sandra? Veronica couldn’t remember her name—said as they both turned to start walking into the building.

Colleen/Sandra loved gossip, and not only about Boston’s rich and famous, whom she discussed extensively in her social column. Readers called her Elsa Court, but Veronica knew that, at least, definitely wasn’t her name. Veronica had never had a colleague so proud to have a pseudonym on her byline.

She seemed to expect a response from Veronica, who shrugged, hoping Colleen/Sandra would move on to another topic. She was usually happy to hold up both ends of the conversation.

Not today. “Veronica, seriously, you can’t just show up to work on the back of a motorcycle with a hot guy and not give any details. You’re already our most mysterious colleague!”

“Most mysterious?” Veronica asked, rather than trying to convince her that JD was just her neighbor.

Colleen/Sandra rolled her eyes. “Of course! You’re only around once a week or less, and you barely talk when you’re here. All the socials are talking about what your big secret is.”

The seven or so writers who worked on the social pages—including but not limited to Helpful Heather, the gossip section, etiquette, and a vague section called Women’s interest that held mostly recipes and cleaning advice—called themselves the socials and were very fond of spending time together. Veronica had always politely declined invitations out for drinks or dinner at someone’s house, now she wished she hadn’t, just so she could show them that she was boring so they wouldn’t talk about her.

“I don’t have a secret,” Veronica lied easily. “That was my neighbor. He saw me miss the bus and offered me a ride. Sorry, no mystery.”

“Your neighbor?” She sounded shocked, “You need to get on that, he’s something else. I’ve always loved the rebel types.”

Veronica snorted. “He’s not really that type. He’s had that bike forever.”

“Sure, sure. Keep things to yourself all you want, Veronica, but I always get the scoop in the end.” She offered Veronica a clandestine smile as they walked into the social pages conference room.

“Melissa! So good to see you!” Debbie, the women’s interest writer, crossed the room to hug Colleen/Sandra, whose name was apparently neither Colleen nor Sandra.

Melissa smiled, “You’ll never believe what happened?” She was the sort of person who always started conversations like that, as though her announcement would change the lives of everyone in the room. “Veronica showed up for work on a motorcycle with a hot guy!”

“Jesus Christ,” Veronica muttered, turning away from the conversation to grab a cup of stale coffee from the counter on the other side of the conference room.

“Boyfriend or brother?” Henry butted in, looking up from the cream he was stirring into his coffee. He covered food and wine and while he was a little pretentious, Veronica liked his utterly non-threatening manner.

“She says he’s her neighbor,” Melissa said, though her eyebrows implied that she didn’t believe her.

“She’s standing right here,” Veronica reminded them, rolling her eyes, but not overly offended. This was the first time she’d been to one of these meetings and felt like she was a part of the conversation. “And he really is just my neighbor, and honestly, he’s a bit of a recluse.”

Technically speaking, she was the recluse, as JD seemed to go places during the day. Not that she was paying attention, but she’d seen him come and go at various hours.

“Is he single?” Debbie asked, though her interest seemed merely polite, not rabid like Melissa’s.

Veronica shrugged. “I assume so.”

“So you’ve thought about it?” Melissa leaned forward eagerly.

Henry put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. “Leave her alone, we don’t want to freak her out.”

At that moment, Sasha walked in and took in the scene: Veronica backed against the wall, Melissa leaning towards her, Henry holding her back. “You’d better not be harassing her. No one wants to do advice columns these days; I’d have a hard time replacing her.”

Sash was the editor for the social page, and the closest thing to a manager they had, so her presence sobered everyone up and they took their seats.

The planning meeting was boring. Veronica found herself tuning out for huge portions of it, but the abbreviated version was that people were doing their jobs and to make sure they turned their shit in on time or they’d have to work from the office more often.

Sasha called Veronica over after she’d disbanded the meeting. “So you’ve been here for a few weeks,” She prompted.

Veronica nodded, warier than she probably needed to be, but not ready to drop her guard. “Yeah.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s good.”

Sasha sighed, though Veronica admired how hard she was trying not to be frustrated. “Good. Well, that’s good to hear I suppose. And you like writing for Heather? Because I meant what I said, it’s hard to get people to stay in that job?”

Veronica couldn’t imagine why that would be; it was an easy job. “Yeah, I like the column. I do a couple others like it, but Heather is my favorite.”

 _Heather is my favorite_. How true and how complicated that sentence had been for Veronica at various times in her life.

Sasha didn’t pick up on Veronica’s sudden melancholy. “I’m happy to hear that. It’s funny though, you’re really one of our best writers, but you really want to stay in advice columns? Usually everyone is trying to break into ‘real journalism’.”

A shudder ran down Veronica’s back and suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. “Not me. I tried… I used to want to be an author, but I like what I’m doing.”

Nodding, Sasha gestured that Veronica could go and she followed her out. “Well book-writing is different. If you ever change your mind and get back into it, I’d be happy to do a read-through for you, as long as you keep writing Heather.”

Veronica smiled softly, though it felt bitter and false on her face. “That’s very kind of you.” And she sped up down the hall and out the building so that she didn’t have to think about the fact that she had nothing to show Sasha, or anyone else interested in what she’d written.

When she arrived home, there were two things waiting for her; one was a package from her mother, and the other was a voicemail.

The package contained a brief note from her mother, which mentioned what was going on in Sherwood and a short explanation for the contents of the package.

_I hope you’re eating well while you’re in Boston. You know your father and I worry about you. I included one of my favorite cookbooks, and the first one my mother gave me. It might be good for you to learn something new, and you’ve always been so smart._

Veronica read the note three times, but the last part stuck with her, and she felt surprising tears stinging her eyes. “ _You’ve always been so smart.”_ Was that what her mother thought? Even after everything?

And what did Veronica think? She knew she’d done some colossally stupid things—some that her mother knew about and many that she didn’t—and she’d long ago stopped considering herself any kind of genius.

But there was something hopeful about this book, though she’d never been interested in learning to cook before. She hadn’t learned anything, or made an effort to start new hobbies since she and Dominic broke up.

Glancing at the book, she gritted her teeth and made up her mind. This was her new start, and goddamnit she was going to really try this time.

* * *

JD’s meetings in the city went well. Veronica must be some kind of good luck charm, because the woman who’d hired him had loved the plans he’d submitted for her apartment.

Wait. No. That was a bad thought. He couldn’t think of Veronica as lucky. Or as his, for that matter.

She very obviously didn’t want to be thought of that way, based on the way she’d run out of his apartment at some ungodly hour just to avoid talking to him. Not that he blamed her that much; it would have been an awkward morning.

But was a little awkwardness so bad? They’d had a good night, though they hadn’t talked much after he’d given his ridiculous speech about why he kept the gun. And he had to admit that it had been nice to have someone around, even if they hadn’t talked much, even if she’d just fallen asleep on his couch, it was nice to have company for once.

And maybe he’d imagined it, but when she’d gotten off the motorcycle, he’d thought maybe they’d returned to their tentative peace. He hoped they had, if for no other reason than Mrs. Levitansky’s company was starting to get old. He liked the various quirky old people that lived with them, but time with Veronica had reminded him how much he missed talking to people his own age. Well, people his age who weren’t insufferable assholes, like many of the men he worked with.

By the time he got home, JD was tired, but he had changes he needed to make to the plans after the meeting today, so he set to work.

Enough time passed without him looking up from his work that Nostradamus started getting restless. Though he usually preferred to avoid walking on the table, the cat had figured out that it was the fastest way to get JD’s attention.

Looking up, JD reached over to scratch him under his chin. “Hey, buddy, am I late for dinner?”

Naturally, Nostradamus didn’t respond, instead choosing to investigate the pencil JD had abandoned. JD tried to reach for it before the cat could try to eat it, but only succeeded in making Nosy think they were playing.

With the pencil clamped in his sharp teeth, Nostradamus leapt off the table and hid on the other side of the couch with his prize.

JD went after him to retrieve it, successfully getting ahold of the eraser before Nostradamus—failing in an attempt to grip the pencil tighter—sank his claws into JD’s hand.

“Fuck.” JD took another swipe at the pencil, and managed to wrest it from the cat’s claws just as he heard a knock on the door. The distraction was his downfall, and Nosy got ahold of the pencil again, making sure to scratch JD once more before running away.

Torn between chasing his cat and answering the door, JD picked the door after a moment’s hesitation. He opened it without really looking, “Hang on, the cat—“

“I understand.”

Veronica’s voice was surprising enough that JD paused to glance at her. She was holding a covered pot of something and looking rather sheepish. He gestured at her to come in before walking over to deal with Nostradamus, who finally relinquished the pencil.

Pushing his sleeves down to hide the scratches his cat had left, JD went over to greet Veronica, who was standing awkwardly just inside the door. He waved the pencil with a sheepish smile of his own. “Sorry about that. I got it back though.”

She laughed instead of responding, which only increased the awkwardness, which became even worse now that they had nothing to say.

“I brought dinner!” She said suddenly and far too loud before taking an almost comically audible breath. “My mom sent me a cookbook because she thought I should learn, but apparently portions are a lot harder than I thought. I think I made enough for ten. Have you eaten yet?”

JD shook his head. “No, I was working. Thanks for—“ He stopped, not sure how to finish. Thinking of him? Coming over? Not hating him for everything he’d done?

Deciding it was better not to say anything than to say something that would ruin whatever fragile peace the had, JD led Veronica into the kitchen without finishing his sentence.

Minutes later, they were sitting at his table—mostly cleared of architectural plans—and talking about nothing.

“It’s been cold lately. I knew Boston winters were bad, but I didn’t think it would start this early,” Veronica said, with a note of desperation as they tried not to run out of conversation.

JD nodded. “Yeah, I think it might warm up once more before fall really starts; it’s still early.”

And with that, the conversation fizzled out while JD and Veronica stared at the center of the table as though they were watching it die.

Taking a slightly too large bite of the pasta dish Veronica had brought, JD said, “This is good.” He would have said it regardless of how true it was, but he wasn’t lying.

A bold, genuine smile crossed Veronica’s face for a second. “Thank you. My mom sent me a cookbook and I thought I’d try something new.”

“I never got into cooking,” JD said.

“Neither have I, really. When I lived with Heather, she cooked sometimes, but mostly I just get takeout.”

JD nodded. He’d been doing the same thing for nearly as long as he could remember.

“I’m surprised you never learned,” Veronica said casually.

Her words stung a little, but he didn’t let it show. “I just never bothered. I never lived anywhere where food wasn’t easy to get.” He shrugged. “I can function, but I don’t enjoy it.”

Veronica glanced down at her plate. “I liked making this. It felt nice to do something, I guess.”

The conversation faded on that note, and JD watched Veronica get lost in her thoughts.

After a minute, the silence started to feel slightly oppressive. “So you lived with Heather?” She’d mentioned it the last time she was here, and he couldn’t help being curious.

“Yeah. We got closer during senior year of high school, and when we both chose Northwestern, we thought it would be easier to live with someone we knew.” She paused for a long second, and then said, “We were really close.”

Something about the way her voice softened as she said it, and the way her eyes dropped sadly to her plate made JD wonder exactly how close they’d been, not that it was any of his business.

“Do you still talk?” That seemed like the safest question, though it was hardly where his curiosity was.

Veronica nodded, the soft, sad expression hardened into something more guarded. “Sometimes. She called me today asking how I’m doing. I guess I haven’t called her since I moved. She’s doing really well.”

That didn’t surprise JD. “She seemed like a survivor.” As soon as he said it, he winced at his phrasing. “Wait—“

“It’s fine,” Veronica said quickly, thankfully before he could fuck this conversation up any more. “I knew what you meant.”

* * *

Veronica did know what he meant. He hadn’t been suggesting that Heather had survived him, just that she’d seemed capable of surviving Westerburg, something neither she nor JD had done especially well. Neither of them had come away from their junior year unscathed, and her senior year had been a haze of trying to get herself back together.

Part of her wanted to ask him what that year had been like for him, but there was a vengeful edge to the question that she didn’t like. Would knowing JD had suffered that year make her feel better? No. And after everything she’d been through, JD wasn’t the person she thought deserved to suffer.

He’d been a kid at the time, and if the mild mannered architect sitting across from her was anything to go on, he’d changed a lot since then.

 _He killed three people,_ she reminded herself sharply, though it did little to change her feelings.

The fact of the matter was that she liked JD; not in the darkly irresistible way she once had, but just as a person, as a neighbor. She liked eating in his kitchen with his cat twining around her legs, and she liked sitting on his worn leather couch drinking cheap beer and complaining about their coworkers.

When she left later that night—exhausted but unable to bear the embarrassment of crashing on his couch twice in a row—she felt strangely optimistic.

The next day was a slow drag of answering Helpful Heather letters, until that night when she made her way down to her mailbox to check and see of she’d received a bill she’d been waiting on and could finally pay.

It was late, and she wasn’t expecting to see anyone in the lobby, but as she exited the staircase she noticed a figure dressed in black, crouched over and rummaging through a duffle bag.

Heart pounding, Veronica was about to turn around and flee towards her apartment, but shifting her weight caused the stair to creak. He turned around and looked up.

It was JD.

Dressed in black, with a dark bag, in the middle of the night.

Who the hell was he?

What was this?

Though Veronica didn’t know much about the profession, she was fairly certain that architecture didn’t usually involve dressing like a character from a bad spy movie and sneaking around late at night. And the bag looked a little bit too much like one she’d seen before, filled with explosives.

He glanced down at his attire and the bag, seeming to realize what she was thinking. “Veronica, I can explain.”


	5. Committing Crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience while I worked on this. I'm exceptionally fond of this chapter and I hope you will be too. Enjoy!

Veronica’s dark eyes flashed, bright and sharp as she stared him down.

JD put his hands up and backed away from the bag. “Veronica, I swear to you, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Really? Because it looks like you’re about to commit a crime,” Veronica said sharply.

Shit. “Well, okay then it’s sort of what it looks like, but—“

“Shut up. Just shut up, JD. I don’t want to hear it. I can’t believe I—“ She stopped, though JD could almost feel the words she hadn’t said—trusted you—hovering between them.

“Veronica,” He said slowly, “Look in the bag. Then I’ll explain everything.” He stepped away slowly, his eyes locked with hers.

She moved cautiously forward, not breaking their stare until she was crouched in front of the bag. Peering inside, he saw several emotions play across her face—surprise, relief, curiosity—as she looked at his pencils, measuring tape, notebook, and sketchpad.

“What… what’s all this for?”

JD sighed, realizing he would probably be later than he had hoped, but knowing that he couldn’t leave without telling Veronica what was going on. Another part of his reluctance came from the intensely personal nature of his task; telling her felt like revealing a part of his soul, one that he wanted to protect.

“Boston is modernizing, and even though there are efforts to protect he historic buildings, there are a lot of buildings that don’t qualify because they aren’t significant or old enough. Those get demolished so someone can come in and build office spaces or apartments. So, I work with a handful of other people in real estate, design, and architecture to come up with plans to modify the old buildings into something that’s more profitable so someone will buy it.”

Veronica listened to this explanation intently, her head tilted to the side. “So you… rescue buildings?”

“Essentially.”

The tension diffused somewhat, though JD could see that Veronica was still suspicious. “So why the secrecy? Why sneak around acting like you’re breaking the law?”

“Because I am,” JD said simply. “These buildings aren’t always open to the public or they’re closed to visitors before auction, so in order to draw the plans I have to break in. If I get caught, I could get arrested.” Again.

There was a long pause, but JD swore he saw Veronica’s posture relax slightly. “But no one gets hurt?”

“No one gets hurt,” He promised.

After a long, slow nod, Veronica stepped away from his bag, and he picked it up. He turned to go and a wild, stupid idea flashed into his brain and out of his mouth before he had a chance to think it over. “You could come with me.”

It was a colossally bad idea. He knew that, but Veronica had always brought out his impulsive side, and once the words were out, he couldn’t take them back.

Veronica looked away from him, worrying her lip between her teeth. A million tiny emotions crossed her face, all too fast for him to name. Then she looked up and for the first time JD saw the fire in her eyes that he’d seen all those years ago.

“I’d like that.”

They walked into the cool night air together and made their way to where JD’ bike was parked. He handed her the spare helmet. “Are you sure about this?”

She nodded, determined. “Yes. I haven’t been out in a while. I want to do this.”

He shrugged and climbed on the bike, waiting for her to get situated behind him before he revved the engine and sped off towards the church.

While they were driving, he could feel Veronica relaxing behind him. Her grip on his waist was loose, confident, and she frequently tossed her head back to laugh in the wind. He smiled with her and resisted the urge to look back at her, realizing that getting a glimpse of that wouldn’t be worth crashing the bike and killing them both.

* * *

It felt nice to do something stupid and reckless, and there was something comforting about seeing this side of JD. He wasn’t so different from the person she’d known back in high school. She saw the same energy and disregard for rules that had initially attracted her to him, but she believed he probably wasn’t going to turn on her. And probably was enough for her.

When they arrived at the church, Veronica saw that there was a large, dark, suspicious looking van already parked there. JD stopped the bike behind it.

A tall, lean figure emerged from the shadow. “Jesus, do you have to drive that thing every time? It’s so fucking loud.”

JD climbed off the bike, and Veronica saw the stranger realize she was there.

“Who the fuck is that? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how many laws we’re breaking?”

He shrugged. “Three by my count; four if you count your terrible parking job. This is Veronica, Veronica, this is Colin.”

Veronica nodded calmly, not at all intimidated by Colin. Instead she met his eyes and deadpanned, “This is far from the most illegal thing I’ve seen him do.”

Colin’s eyes got very big. “Do you know about the murder?”

She coughed, her eyes darting to JD, ready to bolt, before Colin continued. “Because I’m fucking positive he murdered his father and he just won’t admit to it. I mean bad diet pills? How suspicious is that?”

She released her breath in a noticeable whoosh.

JD rolled his eyes, having clearly heard this before. “And I suppose I poisoned eighteen other people across the country just to cover it up?” He brushed past Colin and headed towards the church.

Unable to hold it in, Veronica leaned towards Colin and said, “That’s not his MO.” Then continued walking to catch up with JD.

It felt odd, to make a joke about what they’d done, but there was something strangely freeing about it. For one second, she’d stopped punishing herself for one of her many mistakes and allowed herself to live.

JD was hitting his elbow against a side door that was either locked or jammed; whichever it was, he wasn’t having any luck opening it.

“Colin, is there another way in?”

“The windows,” Colin said, his tone indicating that he wanted to be as unhelpful as possible as he continued to eye Veronica with suspicion. “So how come he brought you?”

Veronica shrugged. “He wanted to show me what he does.”

Colin looked baffled. “Just like that? Jesus he doesn’t trust me to hold his wallet for ten seconds but he takes you out for some nice breaking and entering on a whim? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m his ex-girlfriend.”

“No shit.” Colin looked her up and down, studying her in the faint, unflattering streetlight. “I wouldn’t think you’d be his type.”

“Got it!” JD called, and Veronica turned to see him propping a window open with his shoulder. “Colin, get your ass over here, I need a boost.”

What followed was perhaps the funniest thing Veronica had seen in ages as she watched the two men try to get JD up and through the window. After a lot of grunting and even more swearing, they managed it and JD moved around to unlock the door for Colin and Veronica.

Her good mood vanished as they walked into the church. It was eerie and dark, dust hushed their steps and Veronica felt like she was on haunted ground.

If JD felt the same way, she couldn’t tell. He seemed all business as he began to pace the floor, stopping to look at windows and doors and occasionally jotting things down in a notebook she doubted he could see very well.

“What are you thinking?” Colin asked, breaking the silence and making Veronica jump.

Still unfazed, JD finished writing something and looked up. “Apartment. It’ll be small, but if it’s priced right and we advertise it in the right places, I could see artists and musicians taking the place over.”

“Where?” Colin asked, something Veronica had been wondering as well.

“Upstairs. There are some spaces that they’ve been using for storage. We’ll maintain the basic structure—I want people to know this used to be a church—but we’ll split them into units and leave this as a lobby and cut off the back section for an office and maybe a unit for the landlord.”

Colin nodded. “I may not like you, Dean, but I don’t think anyone else could do what you do.”

“I don’t need you to like me,” JD said, and with that he wandered off to explore upstairs, leaving Veronica with Colin.

“Why don’t you like him?” Veronica asked. She had enough reasons of her own—not that they’d really stopped her—but she wanted to hear another perspective.

“He’s weird.” Colin shrugged. “He never hangs out. He’ll talk about work for hours but then you ask him about himself and he shuts down. He wouldn’t even tell me where he grew up or how he decided to settle in Boston. I swear he’s got some crazy secret, not to mention the arrest.”

“Arrest?” Veronica felt her heart skip a beat and start to race. What had he done? And more importantly, why hadn’t he told her? Possibilities started to spin around in her head, each more horrible than the last.

“He got arrested for murdering his father when he was eighteen, but they let him off when the whole diet pill scandal broke. I’ve asked him about it but he never talks.”

“JD got arrested for a murder he didn’t commit?” Veronica couldn’t keep the humor out of her voice. The irony would have probably cracked up her seventeen year old self, and even now it was funny. And even if he had actually done it—which Veronica doubted—her memories of Bud Dean made it hard to blame him.

“Probably didn’t commit,” Colin amended. “I still think he’s shady as fuck—“

“But I’m good at my job,” JD said, appearing behind them and startling both Colin and Veronica out of their skins.

Colin turned away, muttering something volatile and indecipherable under his breath.

Veronica rolled her eyes and tried to pretend that her heart wasn’t pounding. “Does that mean you’re done?”

“Almost. I have a couple more notes, then we’re done here.” He glared over at Colin who was looking pointedly in the other direction.

Veronica nodded and turned to Colin. “So what was your job?”

“I do lookout and help take measurements. Sometimes I have ideas.”

“And other times he stands around and gossips,” JD said.

Colin didn’t look amused. “At least one of us has social skills. All your plans are useless if we can’t sell it.”

JD just shrugged. “That’s not my job.”

He left again to walk around the church.

“Why do you work with him if you hate him?” Veronica asked, though for some reason it didn’t feel like the question she really wanted to ask.

Colin watched JD run his finger over the pattern on a stained glass window. “I don’t hate him, I just don’t trust him; He’s got a lot of secrets. If I ignore that, I’m lucky to have met him. This project couldn’t have gotten off the ground without him; he has most of the funds and he’s the most dedicated of the team.”

“So there’s a whole team of you that do this?” Veronica kept her voice loud, hoping that JD would chime in as he was walking back to them.

He did, joining them and placing himself directly between Veronica and Colin. “There are five of us; me, one other architect, Colin, and a couple other real estate guys. We try to save buildings like this one.”

Veronica smiled a little. “Vigilante architects. It would make a great story.” She sighed, thinking that once upon a time she would have been ecstatic to uncover a story like this, which could capture public attention and launched a career.

But she wasn’t that girl anymore, so when JD gave her a questioning look, she became suddenly interested in the patterns her feet had left in the dust on the ground.

There was a long pause; loaded with questions Veronica wasn’t asking and answers neither of the men were sure they’d give.

Colin broke the silence. “Well, if that’s it, I’d better split. It was nice meeting you, Veronica.” With that, he left.

The eerie, empty church felt tense. Veronica looked up, made eye contact with JD, and quickly looked away.

“We should go,” JD said.

“Yeah.”

Once they were outside in the night air, the strangeness faded, washed away by the wind that whipped through Veronica’s hair as JD drove.

He pulled up in front of a twenty-four hour diner about a block away from their building. “Want to grab something to eat?”

It had been hours since she’d eaten anything, and the night had been so strange that ending it with yet another strange thing made perfect sense.

An exhausted-looking waitress pointed them to a booth by the window and dropped a couple greasy menus in front of them before shuffling off into the kitchen.

“Have you been here before?” Veronica asked, looking around the diner. It seemed strange that it was so close by and she’d never even seen it. She needed to get out of her apartment more.

JD nodded. “Yeah. I told you I don’t cook, so I come here and O’Doherty’s around the corner for food pretty much once a week.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been alive for almost thirty years and you can’t cook anything.”

“I’ve just never tried learning. There’s food everywhere in this city, why would I bother?”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “I kind of like it, now that I’m learning. There’s something satisfying about it.”

He nodded, and must have realized that the topic was dead, because he smoothly changed the subject.

The waitress came back and took their orders, and they continued to talk, somehow falling into the same pattern they’d reached the other night in his apartment.

After several minutes, Veronica realized with some surprise that she’d been sitting next to a window and had never once looked out to make sure that no one was watching her.

* * *

JD smiled at Veronica over his plate of eggs, shocked at how easy it was to talk to her.

She had also opened up more as the night had gone on, slowly dropping the guarded posture and suspicious looks from when she’d discovered him in the lobby earlier.

“So what I’m really interested in,” She was saying, pointing her fork at him in mock accusation, “Is why your friend is so sure that you killed your dad.”

JD shrugged. “God only knows what goes on in Colin’s mind. He probably just watches too many of those shitty cop shows on TV.”

“He told me you got arrested?”

His heart sank as he realized he would have to tell her the truth. “Yeah. We were living in Connecticut and the cops thought his death was suspicious. I had just turned eighteen a few weeks before and was going to inherit everything. It didn’t look good.”

“But you didn’t kill him?” She was leaning towards him, her food forgotten in front of her. Quieter, she said, “I wouldn’t blame you. He was…”

He nodded. “I know he was, but I really didn’t kill him. They let me go once the story broke that the pills were making people sick.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She said it casually, no longer looking at him, but the tension in her shoulders made him want to tread carefully.

“I just… I feel like we’re standing on thin ice and anything I say or do could shatter it. I don’t want that. I thought if I told you that I’d been arrested for murder, you’d freak out. I wasn’t trying to lie to you.”

Veronica studied him carefully for a long minute, and then nodded. “I understand.” It was obvious that her guard was starting to slide back up, and JD desperately wanted to make her feel at ease again.

Forgetting to check his impulsivity, JD reached out and grabbed Veronica’s hand on the table. “Veronica, I promise, I’m never going to lie to you again.”

She was silent, staring directly into his eyes. Finally, she said, “I’m not making the same promise.”

He wouldn’t have asked her to.

Silence fell, and it was loaded with unspoken thoughts. JD let her keep them to herself.

After a while, she looked up at him, whatever serious thoughts she’d been having seemed to have gone, or at least she’d hidden them away. “Why do you live here?”

“Boston? I went to UMass and just ended up wanting to stay in state when I graduated. I’ve always liked living in cities.”

“I meant our building. If you inherited your dad’s company, plus I bet the wrongful death lawsuit made a lot of money, you could live somewhere way nicer.” She smiled wryly. “Your neighbors would be a lot cooler.”

“I like my neighbors,” He said quickly. “And anyway, I don’t… I don’t like spending my dad’s money.” Talking about this was uncomfortable, and he was fairly certain Veronica was the last person he’d opened up to about this.

She looked momentarily confused, so he took a deep breath and forced himself to explain. “He made money. He… On the job that killed my mom.”

Veronica’s face fell, and several different emotions flashed through her eyes.

JD shrugged, attempting to remain casual though he was sure she saw right through it. “It’s stupid, but every time I have to tap into his money, rather than what I make I wonder if it came from that job.”

Rather than offering words of any kind—pity, empathy, or even sarcastic—Veronica reached out and held his hand.

He could feel the round burn scar on her palm, and he remembered exactly how she’d gotten it.

Their late night early morning breakfast finished, they returned to their building, and JD walked her to her door.

“I had fun tonight,” He said with a small smile, “Committing crimes with you.”

Veronica smiled back. “I guess last time we were committing the wrong kinds of crime.”

He almost laughed. It was so strange to think of it like that. If they’d stuck to vandalism and breaking and entering, what might have happened?

“But really, JD, thank you. Tonight was… It was really good to get out for a little bit.”

They both paused and it felt for a second like time had frozen. Veronica leaned in and JD did too, beginning to close the distance between them.

And then time started again, and they both remembered who they were, and what happened when they got too close.

JD stepped away.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She went inside and closed the door.

He returned to his dark apartment to be greeted by his cat, who seemed only mildly irritated to have his sleep disturbed, and happily sat on the couch with Nostradamus curled up in his lap, and JD buried his face in the cat's soft fur. 

“Oh Nosy, what a night. What a life.”

* * *

Veronica’s answering machine was blinking demandingly when she got inside, but her thoughts were too scattered to pay much attention to it.

Had that happened? Had JD almost kissed her? Had she almost kissed him?

She pressed her forehead against the wall, trying to rein in her thoughts. Glancing back at the answering machine, she decided she needed something, anything, to take her mind off of what had very nearly happened in the hallway.

Pressing the button, Veronica expected to hear Heather Duke’s affectionately exasperated voice. It had been a while since they’d talked, and only Heather knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t mind getting a call this late.

But the message was just a long silence, before it clicked dead.

Veronica’s heart stopped.

_No. No. Not again._

 


	6. Normal and Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this done much faster than usual! The next chapter will probably do a time skip, so I may wait a bit on updating it and focus on Someone Else's War. I haven't decided yet though, so feel free to hop in the comments and let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Veronica couldn’t sleep. She stayed up, eyes wide and heart pounding until light began to creep in through the windows. The phone was gripped tight in one hand, while a nearly empty bottle of vodka was dangling from the other.

 _Turn it off,_ She thought harshly to herself, _Just turn the fucking phone off._

But she couldn’t do it. A part of her needed it to ring, to answer it and hear nothing at all on the other end. To hear that horribly familiar beat of silence and know that it was all happening again.

Because then at least she would know for sure.

A logical part of her brain tried to tell her that it could be a mistake. People called wrong numbers all the time, and then they might realize it was the wrong number and hang up. It could be fine. It might not be every one of her nightmares coming true, just when her life was starting to get better.

When the phone eventually did ring it startled Veronica so much she tossed it away from her, and it landed underneath her table.

She stared at it warily, unsure if she wanted to answer it and hear that ominous silence, or wait and hear it as a recorded message.

The answering machine beeped. “Hey Veronica, it’s Heather, are you screening your calls? Could you pick up—“

Veronica sprinted to the phone, knocking the vodka over in the process, and answered the phone, relief sweeping through her. “Heather!”

“Whoa, that’s a lot of volume. Are you okay?” Heather had her usual crisp, brusque tone that probably meant she was calling while on her way to work.

“I…” Veronica hesitated. She’d been avoiding Heather’s calls for a lot of reasons, and now she wondered if she should finally confess. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

There was a short pause. “That’s it? No explanation for the silence? Jesus, Veronica, I’ve been worried about you.”

“I’ve just been busy,” Veronica answered lamely. She didn’t want to make excuses, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell the truth.

Heather had moved on. Completely. She was happy and successful, dating someone she liked, and doing a job that she was good at. Veronica didn’t want to be bitter, but she had loved Heather, and seeing her surpass Veronica in every possible way sometimes felt like being kicked.

Not for the first time, Veronica wondered what her life would have been like if Heather and Veronica had never broken up. If Veronica had never met Dominic. If any of the myriad things that had gone wrong in Veronica’s life had instead gone right, where would she be?

“Okay…” Heather said, drawing the word out to indicate that she didn’t believe Veronica. “So there haven’t been any—Everything’s been alright?”

The long silence that followed while Veronica tried to come up with a lie was probably telling.

“What happened?”

Veronica hesitated, but she wanted to tell someone, and she wasn’t ready to open up to JD about all of this, which meant that Heather was her only option. “I got a phone call. Last night, really late at night, someone called me and left a message, but it was just silence. Just like he used to.”

Heather didn’t speak for a long moment. “It might not be him. I mean, you changed your number, and the only people who know it now are your parents, me, and the people you work with. There’s no way he could have gotten it.”

“Yeah, I know. But—“

“Veronica,” Heather said. “You need to relax. You moved to a different city. No one knows you. You’re safe. You have to keep telling yourself that or you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

Veronica nodded. “You’re right.”

“Always. I have to go, I have a meeting in ten, but call me, okay? Or at least pick up the phone when I call? I was really worried.” For a single second, Veronica heard the shaky-voiced, unsure Heather that she had known.

“I will, sorry.” They both knew she was lying.

“I love you, Veronica. Take care of yourself.” With that, Heather hung up, and the click of the connection ending left Veronica feeling gutted.

Glancing down at the bottle in her hand, she shrugged and took a long sip. And then another. And another.

Finally, she was able to fall asleep.

* * *

JD had a productive morning, once Nostradamus had managed to wake him up. The exhilarating night had left him exhausted, but his cat hadn’t allowed him the luxury of sleeping in if it meant he didn’t get his food.

With sleep out of the question and his cat fed, JD started to work on the church plans, something far more interesting than his usual work. Time flew, and he was so fixated on the tiny, graphite and paper world in front of him that he nearly forgot about his appointment with Cab that afternoon, which ended with him rushing out of his apartment in a hurry and pushing the speed limit through the busy streets.

Cold had crept up on them, and JD found that his jacket wasn’t enough for the windy day.

“Running late?” Cab asked when JD made it to his office, windswept and flustered.

“Sorry, I had a late night.”

Cab was studying him, that curious, searching look that had driven JD mad at first crossing his face. “Must have been a good night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

Happy? JD stopped for a second, realizing that he was smiling, and that he had been for a while. “I—Yeah, it was a good night.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“Not really.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but JD wasn’t confident that Cab would shrug off his casual breaking and entering, which would complicate their relationship.

“Alright then.” JD loved that Cab never seemed to care when JD didn’t want to talk about things, he just moved on. “I have a question, but don’t feel that you have to answer. A while back you mentioned a friend of yours, and you haven’t brought her up since. I think you said she was your neighbor? How is that going?”

Goddamn perceptive people. “She’s… It’s good.”

“Good. That’s good.” He stopped, clearly waiting for JD to say something else.

“It’s… Well, It’s nice to have someone who knows me. Veronica knows all of me, and it’s nice not to have to lie to her.”

“Do you feel that you lie to your other friends?”

“I don’t lie to them, not really. I just don’t tell them anything.” He thought about Colin, so desperate to understand JD that he’d concocted an elaborate conspiracy that JD was a murderer atoning for his father’s sins along with his own. It was somewhat true, just not the way Colin thought.

“But you tell Veronica things?”

“I don’t have to tell her anything; she already knows.”

“That would make things simpler.”

“Nothing with Veronica is simple,” JD said quickly, forgetting that he should be hiding things.

“Can you unpack that?”

An instinctive ‘no’ rested on JD’s lips, but he didn’t say it. “She’s complicated. And I’m complicated. Together we’re…”

“Complicated?”

Dangerous.

“Yeah. Complicated.”

“Do you have feelings for her?”

“Obviously.”

Cab smiled wryly. “I wouldn’t say it’s obvious. You keep things hidden very well, JD. The two of you were together a long time ago, are these just unresolved feelings from back then?”

JD thought that over for a minute. “No. Things between me and Veronica were as resolved as they could have been.” She’d shot him for fuck’s sake. “This is different. New.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because she’s different.” And maybe he was too.

 

After therapy, JD went home, but could no longer focus on the plans. He paced his apartment while Nostradamus watched him, his dark yellow eyes flicking back and fourth in time with JD.

Finally, he couldn’t take the containment anymore and decided to go for a run.

The wind whipped against his cheeks and burned in his throat. The strain on his muscles focused his mind, and by the time he’d gotten back, he felt better and saner than he had when he’d left.

He fed Nostradamus and showered, finally ready to go back to work. The church plans were getting better as he developed them, carefully minding the measurements he’d taken the night before. Once again lost in numbers and lines, a timid knock on his door startled him back to the present.

Veronica stood outside his door, looking slightly nervous and carrying an armload of food. “Have you eaten?”

“No…”

“Good. I made bread. Can I use your kitchen? I didn’t feel like cooking everything and then carrying it over.” The moved past him without waiting for an answer.

JD noticed that she was shaking slightly, but he was more struck by the hectic energy she gave off, like her skin didn’t fit right and if she moved fast enough it would stretch to accommodate her.

“Veronica, are you okay?” His first thought was that she was on drugs, though it seemed out of character. She just didn’t seem like herself.

She turned to him and beamed. “Yes, of course.” The smile was too tense, and her eyes flitted to the corners of the room like she expected someone to be waiting there for her.

A part of him wanted to grab her by the shoulders, just to make her stop moving and look him in the eye so he could be sure she was really alright, but he felt awkward touching her. Whatever their shaky friendship was, it wasn’t a touching one.

“Okay…” He followed her to the kitchen, watching and waiting to see what she would do.

All that happened was that she started cooking. If her movements were jerky and a little too fast, it didn’t seem to affect what she was doing in any way, and she moved through his kitchen like a hurricane.

“Can I help with anything?”

She tossed some vegetables at him. “Can you cut these for me?”

JD wasn’t sure if he owned a kitchen knife, but he took the vegetables anyway and found something that would work.

As they worked, elbows bumping occasionally as they tried to share the small space, JD felt Veronica start to relax. By the time dinner was in the oven and they were sharing her homemade bread and chasing Nostradamus off the counters, she was almost back to normal.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” She said, and he thought he caught a note of embarrassment in her voice. “I had a bad day. It’s nice to have company.”

“Did something happen?” He asked; it didn’t seem possible that an ordinary bad day could shake Veronica up that much.

She chewed on her lip, and when she answered, JD knew it was a lie. “No, I was just tired.”

He let her lie. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you’re tired.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “No. Last night was good; I just didn’t sleep well. Bad dreams.”

“I know what that’s like.”

Veronica nodded.

They ate sitting on his couch rather than risk messing up the plans, which she had listened to him talk about, even when he got too excited and technical while giving her the details.

“Okay, you listened to me talk about my work, you should talk about yours.”

Veronica shrugged, conveniently taking another bite to delay her answer. “I don’t know. It’s just answering letters.”

“There have to be some hilarious letters, please tell me all of the insane problems that the citizens of this incredible town have.” He smiled, attempting encouragement.

“Well, my favorites are the ones about relatives. I get so sick of answering people’s questions about love that anything family related is a relief. Not to mention, people’s relatives are _weird_.”

“I’m sure.”

“There was this one woman who wrote in saying that her aunt was demanding that she be allowed to bring both her boyfriends to her niece’s wedding. The problem was that this was going to be when she told them about each other. The poor bride wrote to Heather asking what to do because she didn’t want to make anyone unhappy, but she didn’t want her wedding to be overshadowed by all this drama.”

JD laughed, perhaps a little harder than the story warranted, just because it felt good. “So what did you tell her?”

“Just the usual,” Veronica said. “She deserves to have the wedding of her dreams and she shouldn’t let anyone make any demands. I also congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials.”

“Naturally,” JD agreed. “Do people ever ask for parenting advice? How do you handle that?”

Veronica shuddered. “I don’t touch those, except for one.”

“Okay, you can’t say that and then not tell me what made you change your policy.”

“The kid was possessed.” Veronica raised an eyebrow, smiling at him.

“No.”

“I’m dead serious. She wrote in describing all this weird shit her kid was doing: speaking Latin, following her around silently—“

“Floating on the ceiling?”

“Not that she mentioned. I just hope it was a fake. We get those sometimes, or at least letters that feel false, if that makes any sense.”

JD thought Veronica could probably spot a fake letter better than most people, but he didn’t want to say that. “So you like your job? It seems like you’re good at it.”

“You read it?” She looked up at him, her face suddenly serious, searching. He wondered what she was looking for.

“Yeah, sometimes. It’s interesting.”

A soft, fleeting smile crossed her lips and she looked down, studying the plate in her lap. “Thanks.”

“You mentioned that you thought my project saving the buildings—“

“Vigilante architecture?” She smiled.

“Yeah, vigilante architecture. You said you thought it would make a good article. Have you ever done anything like that?”

Veronica’s eyes clouded over, and she looked away from him, studying the floor intently. “Yeah. I studied journalism in school and I used to think I wanted to be a writer but… It didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” He knew he shouldn’t push his luck, but there was so much about her that confused him, so much that she wasn’t telling him.

She shrugged. “I was writing a book, but I lost it. I couldn’t bring myself to start over, and I didn’t want to start anything new, so I just stopped.”

“I’m sorry,” He said, instead of asking all of the questions that her answer had given him. She nodded without answering.

In the end, the silence went on too long, and JD turned on the TV to some mindless sitcom. It gave them something to talk about and mock, and the tension went away. Slowly, the sadness disappeared from her face.

They cleared the plates away and went back to mocking the reruns. Veronica had plenty to say about a Very Special Episode featuring the dangers of teenagers joining gangs.

“So you don’t think this is absolutely ridiculous?” She demanded, smiling but somehow still visibly outraged. “Look at that girl! There is no way in hell anyone is letting her join their gang.”

“I never said I thought it was realistic,” He said. “I just meant that it’s not the worst PSA I’ve ever seen.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not the worst, sure, but I don’t think it really deals with the issue. I mean, should white parents in the suburbs really be afraid that their daughters might start wearing leather and joining gangs?”

JD couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, no. You win.”

Veronica smiled back at him, and he stared, momentarily transfixed.

* * *

 

This was more eye contact than she usually allowed. A part of her worried that if she let him look too close, he might see something she didn’t want him to. But she couldn’t bring herself to look away from him right now. She felt too comfortable, laughing on his couch with his cat in her lap. She felt safe.

He coughed and turned back to the TV, breaking the moment. “So, have you talked to Heather recently?”

“Yeah, we talked this morning, actually. She’s doing well.” Veronica wondered if she should tell JD that Heather had no idea they were living in the same building.

“Do you miss living with her?”

“I… Sometimes. But she’s better off where she is.” Veronica glanced away, stealing a look out the window at the empty city street. “Things with us didn’t end very well.”

“Did something happen?”

Veronica suddenly realized what she’d said, and she looked back at JD to gauge his expression. Finding only polite curiosity there, she explained. “We were dating. I mean, well… we were in love. And it didn’t end well.”

There was a long beat of silence, before JD said, “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

It was weird, now that she had started talking about it, and he wasn’t being a dick about it, she wanted to keep going. “She always wanted to be powerful.”

“I remember that about her,” He said. She knew that he remembered using it to get her involved in his plan.

“Once we were out of high school and a little more free to be ourselves, she calmed down,” Veronica explained. “But she still wanted to change the world or become someone famous and influential. I’d had enough of trying to change the world, and I just wanted to live. It made things hard.”

He nodded. “I dated a girl for three months and then realized I’d never told her that my mom was dead. That was my last relationship.”

“God, we’re both pathetic.”

He laughed. “I’ll drink to that.” They touched their glasses together and both took long sips.

After a couple more hours swapping dating horror stories—though Veronica pointedly left out her worst one— she fell asleep on JD’s couch again.

She woke slowly, shifting around on the couch while she contemplated getting up.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Veronica froze, heart pounding. What had she done?

“I swear to god, if you fucking move—“

Slowly, she peered over the top of the couch, barely breathing, to get a look at JD.

He was in a battle of wills with Nostradamus, who had one paw poised against a coffee cup that was resting on JD’s plans.

“Don’t you dare knock that over, you stupid son of a bitch.”

“I think you’re just making him want to do it more,” Veronica said, rubbing her eyes and breathing deep as her heart rate settled.

Nostradamus’s ears perked up and he looked at Veronica, clearly thinking she was more interesting than destroying JD’s hard work. He jumped off the table and leapt casually onto Veronica’s stomach.

She was happy to have him there as he calmed her panic enough that she almost felt normal when she stood up.

“Morning,” JD said, waving awkwardly. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“No problem. What time is it?”

“A little after ten.” He set his pencil down and stood up. “I got breakfast after my run, do you want some?”

It was a little touching that he’d gotten her food while he was out, especially since he probably didn’t even know if she would still be there when he got back.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

He smiled and went into the kitchen. Veronica cleared a small space on the table, carefully moving his plans out of the way. Though she still couldn’t picture a building based on the many thin dark lines on the paper, she was starting to make sense of the symbols on the page after his explanation the night before.

JD returned with bagels and two mugs of coffee, one of which she took gladly, and they settled in for breakfast.

Veronica was still drowsy and JD occasionally picked up a pencil to change something on one of the plans, but they talked and ate and it felt strangely normal.

Normal felt nice.


	7. People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked my followers on Tumblr what they wanted me to do this week, and they voted for this, so here's another chapter! Enjoy!

It became normal. Veronica would go up to JD’s apartment at night and they would make dinner or order something, watch TV, bitch about their jobs, or occasionally play cards.

As strange as it was for Veronica, they were friends. And if sometimes a joke fell flat or a moment became awkward as one or both of them remembered that they were responsible for three deaths, it felt like a small price to pay to not face the crushing loneliness of her life.

Weeks passed, and the wind picked up, finally blowing fall out of the city and carrying winter with it. Life for Veronica became hectic as she tried to get ahead on letters so she could take time off for the holidays, though she still wasn’t certain she wanted to go home.

Over time, she had fallen out of the habit of knocking on JD’s door, instead choosing to climb down the fire escape and crawl gracelessly through the window he always left unlocked.

Throwing herself dramatically on his couch, she groaned. “I swear if I read one more letter about how awful people’s in-laws are, I’m going to scream.”

JD laughed, setting his pencil down and stretching his neck, stepping away from the church plans, which he had officially been hired to complete after some rich real estate tycoon had bought the property. “You’ve gotten a lot of those?”

“Dozens. Hundreds! And they’re all the same!” She assumed a mocking, nasal voice. “Dear Heather, my wife is making me invite her family to our house for Christmas, but I hate them! They’re all awful and loud and annoying. They keep asking me when I’m going to get a job! I hate explaining that working is for sellouts.”

Setting his pencil down, JD joined her on the couch, carefully moving her legs to make room. “That wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought the in-laws were always in the wrong.”

“I used to think that too, but I’m pretty sure sitcoms lied to us, and actually you shouldn’t hate your spouses family.”

“Seems reasonable.”

She sighed, hauling herself into a sitting position. “I have to go in tomorrow.”

“Me too. I have a meeting with the guys, and we’re doing it at a real office.”

‘The guys’ were the other architects and salesmen involved with JD and Colin’s project. Veronica had met them once, as meetings usually happened in people’s apartments, and JD had forgotten to warn her that they would be there.

The looks on their faces when she had climbed in through the window without so much as a knock still occasionally managed to make her smile.

“Whose office?” Veronica asked.

“Eric; he’s got a fancy place downtown. It’s not far from your office, actually, do you want a ride?”

“On the bike? In this weather?” Veronica shuddered. “No thank you. Is that even safe?”

JD rolled his eyes. “The roads are clear, the helmet protects your face; wear a coat and you’ll get there in half the time it takes the bus.”

“I’ll think about it.”

A slow smile spread across JD’s face. “Wait, I might have a coat you can borrow.”

He walked away, and Veronica—though curious—was too lazy to follow him. Nostradamus curled up at her feet, watching the hallway into which JD had disappeared.

When he reappeared, he was carrying a bundle of familiar black fabric.

“You kept it,” Veronica whispered, reaching out to touch the coat, but pulling back at the last second, afraid that it might burn her.

He nodded. “As a reminder, I guess.”

Though she knew he had grabbed it as a joke, the mood had suddenly become somber. JD unfolded it slowly, almost reverently.

There were no bloodstains that Veronica could see, a surprise and a relief, but the badly sewn up hole on one side of it stood as a reminder to all that had happened.

Very carefully, Veronica brushed the tips of her finger against the clumsy stitches that did little to erase the damage the bullet had done.

Neither of them said anything, because what was there to say? Could she apologize for shooting him without admitting that she was glad she had? It had seemed like the only way to stop him, and it had taken more strength that she’d thought it would.

“It was a long time ago,” JD said, as if he could sense her thoughts.

Veronica cleared her throat, pulling her hand away and shaking her head a little. “I hope you washed it.”

JD accepted the change in mood without comment. “Of course I washed it, Jesus.”

Thankfully, he didn’t mention the blood, though Veronica knew there had been a lot of it.

Unsurprisingly, that killed the mood and Veronica stood to go. She could see the disappointment on his face, but he didn’t ask her to stay.

Smiling slightly, Veronica turned back before she climbed through the window. “I’ll see you in the lobby tomorrow morning, right?”

A soft, hopeful smile crossed his face. “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

There was a message waiting for her when she got home, but she’d spoken to Heather the day before, and knew that she wouldn’t call again so soon, much less leave a message.

Unable to bear the eerie emptiness of another silent message, Veronica ignored the light and went to bed, though the idea of that message sitting there, waiting, kept her up for another hour.

The next morning she didn’t meet JD in the lobby as planned. Instead, they almost literally ran into each other on the stairs as he was leaving his apartment.

“Morning, how’d you sleep?” He asked, locking his door and turning to walk with her down the stairs.

“Fine,” Veronica lied. Though she didn’t get the calls often enough for her to think it really was Dominic, they still made her anxious, and last night had been riddled with nightmares.

JD nodded, accepting her answer as they walked out to his bike, which he kept in a nearby garage.

It was freezing, but Veronica had to admit that it was better than riding the bus. Even with the stinging cold wind whipping in her face, it was nice not to be surrounded on all sides by people. The bus made her feel trapped; the bike was the opposite.

“Do you need me to pick you up?” JD said as he dropped her off.

“No, thanks. I’ll either get a ride home or take the bus. I’ll see you tonight though, right?” Eating together had become regular for them, but sometimes JD had to visit a site with Colin. She had come over once when he was gone, and the silence of his apartment without him had been eerie. Nostradamus had followed her back to her apartment.

JD smiled. “I’ll see you tonight. It’s my night though; no cooking.”

“Takeout from the diner or O’Doherty’s?” Veronica teased, as JD never cooked on the nights he provided food.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you,” He said, raising one eyebrow like a challenge.

“Yeah, sure. See you later, JD!” She waved and left him, heading towards her office building.

She ended up in the elevator with Melissa.

“Veronica! I noticed that motorcycle boy dropped you off again, is it serious?”

She hid her discomfort behind a laugh, which came out sounding awkward. “It’s not like that. He’s my neighbor and he had a meeting nearby so he gave me a ride.”

Though obviously disappointed, Melissa rallied quickly. “Well then you can make it official at my party! I’m doing a little holiday get together for the socials and friends on Friday and I’d just love it if you came.”

“Oh, I’m not—“

“You never come to anything! You’ve been here for so long but we hardly know you. Please say you’ll come.” Though her words were excessive, her tone was genuine.

Thankfully, Veronica was spared trying to come up with an excuse when the elevator doors opened on their floor. Melissa was suitably distracted by everyone else that she forgot Veronica’s lack of answer completely, much to Veronica’s relief.

The meeting was boring, mostly formatting stuff and several reminders that the city was looking to them for seasonal content.

“I know we’re all sick of it, but we need to keep shoving Christmas down their throats until after new years, then we can go back to what we like,” Sasha said, with a tone that suggested this was a great form of torture for her.

Dave, the photographer for Melissa’s gossip page raised his hand. “I’m Jewish.”

Sasha ignored him and moved on to a lengthy layout discussion, wherein everyone vied for optimal page space and placement.

Veronica sat back and let the sounds of their arguments wash over her; Heather always got her own dedicated space that no one else was allowed to touch, so Veronica didn’t have to worry about layout disputes.

When the meeting dispersed, Veronica stood to go, ready to make a quick escape.

“So you never said you were coming to my party,” Melissa said. The others started gathering their things slowly, obviously listening.

“Oh. You noticed that.”

“I’m a gossip columnist; I notice everything. Veronica, please come.” Melissa wasn’t the type to plead, but Veronica could tell that she really wanted her to come.

“I… I’m not sure. I don’t go out much—“

“That much is obvious,” Henry said.

Dave came to her defense. “Don’t be mean!” He had recently broken up with Henry and was likely to argue with him about anything just for the sake of it. Veronica had found it annoying until now. “I’m dying to get a few photos of you with the group.”

Veronica shuffled, glancing at the door and wondering if she could make a run for it. “I don’t like having my picture taken.”

Melissa smiled reassuringly. “Then we’ll make Dave leave his work at home for once. Just say you’ll come!”

“And say you’ll bring the hunk with the motorcycle!”

“Wait,” Henry said, suddenly interested, “No one said anything about a hunk with a motorcycle. _Definitely_ bring him.”

Rolling her eyes, Veronica accepted that there was no way out of this. “Sure. I’ll stop by.”

Melissa beamed and quickly scrawled down her address. “I can’t wait!”

Still shifting awkwardly towards the door, Veronica lied, “yeah, neither can I.”

* * *

JD was late to his meeting, and everyone was standing around waiting for him when he got there.

“It’s about damn time,” Colin muttered.

“Sorry about that, let’s get started. Do we have a new building?”

Eric shook his head. He was a salesman and local history buff and frequently found their targets for them. “I’ve been looking around, but I don’t think anyone is looking to start new projects this close to the holidays. I’ll keep an eye out for things that come up after new years.”

“And what about the church project?”

Colin beamed. “They’re getting a lot of interest. Dean’s designs are good enough and the fact that it’s a church is bringing a good amount of attention.”

 _Just good,_ JD thought bitterly. It shouldn’t bother him that Colin was rude—it was hardly unusual—but after what had happened with Veronica, a lot of JD’s good will had gone away.

Even if Veronica had accepted his story about his arrest and it hadn’t caused problems with them, Colin had knowingly given away personal information. It was hard not to feel a little betrayed.

The rest of the meeting was self-congratulation and everyone agreeing to keep an eye out for new properties they could work on. JD tuned more of it out than he probably should have.

“Hey, how’s Veronica?” The sound of her name brought his attention back to find Colin watching him.

“She’s good,” JD answered cautiously, though he wasn’t entirely sure. His idiotic attempt at a joke—showing her the coat—had clearly made her uncomfortable, though she’d seemed normal that morning.

“Is she single?” Mike asked, “Because in case you missed it, she’s hot.” Mike was the other architect and significantly showier than JD. He worked for a large firm and prided himself on dating many women.

“She’s single,” JD answered, unconcerned. Mike didn’t have a shot in hell with Veronica, and everyone in the room knew it.

“So you two aren’t a thing?”

They’d been asking this same question since they’d met her.

“They used to be,” Colin said. “She told me she was his ex.”

“When did you date?” Eric asked, the only one whose interest was only polite.

“High school.” JD didn’t believe in god, but he was about to start praying that they wouldn’t ask about that.

Colin snorted. “I can’t picture you that young.”

“Yeah, you don’t seem like you were ever a kid,” Mike agreed.

Once they started discussing personal lives, JD made his exit. Colin was going on about a bad date he’d had, that JD was pretty sure he was lying about, and Mike went into too much detail about a stripper he’d met in a bar.

This was always when he left, which probably contributed to his mysterious outsider status in the group. He didn’t mind. It was easier to be a little separate.

He picked up dinner on his way home, stopping for Chinese takeout at a tiny restaurant he’d found by accident years ago.

Veronica arrived at his apartment earlier than usual, no longer wearing her office clothes.

He looked at her shirt. “Hey, that’s weird, I have an Aerosmith t shirt just like that one. Where’d you get yours?”

“Your closet,” Veronica answered. “I took it one morning when I crashed here.”

“You took my shirt,” He said flatly.

“You took my virginity,” She shot back.

“No I didn’t!”

“Okay, fine, no, you didn’t.” She laughed and walked past him into the kitchen and he didn’t push the issue any further.

They settled on his couch with takeout containers on their laps, happily eating and laughing at sitcom reruns.

Randomly during a commercial break, Veronica blurted, “Would you go to a party with me?”

JD coughed on his noodles, not sure he’d heard her correctly. “A party?”

“Yeah, with me. My coworker, Melissa, is having a holiday thing and she wants me to come.”

“And you want me to come?”

“Yes.” Veronica hesitated for a second. “I might need to use you as an excuse to leave.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Though he didn’t need any more explanation, he was glad when she provided some. “I don’t go out very often because I get nervous sometimes when there are lots of people around.”

“I understand,” He said, though he didn’t really understand at all. Where was the Veronica he’d known? What had happened to the girl who wasn’t afraid of anything? “Of course I’ll go.”

For an instant, he thought she might hug him, but she didn’t, and he couldn’t even decide if he wanted her to. Though they’d never discussed it, they didn’t touch each other unless it was for a purpose, things like hugs and hand holding were off-limits in a way JD couldn’t explain, but that felt set in stone.

She smiled, keeping her distance. “Thank you, JD.”

Near their feet, Nostradamus stalked anxiously, waiting for one of them to drop food.

“He acts like I starve him,” JD muttered, reaching down to stroke the cat.

Veronica laughed and reached down. Whether intentionally or not, their hands brushed together on Nostradamus’s back, and there was a small moment of connection.

They locked eyes, frozen for a second before they both pulled away.

Veronica didn’t spend the night, but she stayed late, their usual routine of mocking bad television shows keeping them awake and laughing for hours. After she’d left, his apartment felt too quiet and too empty, so he just went to bed.

 

Logically, he knew he shouldn’t be nervous, but when Friday came and he was getting ready for Veronica’s party, he couldn’t help but feel… something. Something that wasn’t nerves, because this wasn’t a date, and he and Veronica didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Still, he took the time to wash his hair and wear a decent shirt. Nostradamus watched him with a curiously human expression, and JD felt like he was being judged.

“What?” He said to the cat, who only twitched his tail in thoughtful silence. Rolling his eyes, he closed the window, checked Nostradamus’s water, and then made his way down to Veronica’s apartment.

He was immediately reminded why they never spent any time at her place; it was hideous. Though Veronica had been living there for months, she hadn’t purchased new furniture, and it still looked exactly as it had when Helena Pagonis had been alive. Since Mrs. Pagonis hadn’t had the best taste in fabrics or furniture, it looked pretty damn bad.

Veronica, on the other hand, looked very damn good.

She walked out of her bedroom with her hair curled, wearing a sleek black dress and heels. It struck him that this was the first time he’d seen her really dressed up or wearing makeup since high school.

And though she looked fantastic, he couldn’t help but prefer the girl who’d been laughing on his couch, eating takeout and wearing his faded concert t-shirt.

JD shook that thought away. It was far too close to honest for his liking.

“You look great,” He said with a smile. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded, smiling back, though he detected a trace of nerves in it. “Yeah.”

They walked down to the lobby, and JD had to resist the urge to put his hand on her back. This whole situation felt like a date, and he had to keep reminding himself that it wasn’t. That it couldn’t be.

As they passed the third floor, JD saw his neighbors door move slightly, and wondered how fast Mrs. Levitansky would tell the other tenants that she’d seen them leaving together, dressed for going out.

Veronica twitched slightly, her eyes on the door, looking like she was ready to run.

“She’s been hoping to catch something like this for ages, I think. I can’t tell you how many times she’s mentioned you to me.”

Refocusing, Veronica looked at him. “Do you talk to her much?”

“Mrs. Levitansky needs me to come over sometimes and help her with things around the apartment. Before you moved in, she had a new niece or daughter of a friend for me to meet every week. One time I told her I dated guys just to make her stop.”

“Do you?”

JD shrugged. “I have, yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve dated anyone, to be honest.”

“I can relate to that,” Veronica said with a small snort. “I should warn you, my coworkers are nosy and they already think we’re together.”

“How will I survive such a horrible accusation,” JD exclaimed with mock offense. Veronica rolled her eyes at him and started towards the garage, but JD stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

“It’s starting to snow, I don’t think we should risk the bike. Do you mind taking a taxi?” When had he become awkward? Why did everything he said sound so strange, unnatural, and wrong?

Veronica didn’t seem to pick up on his discomfort. “Sure.”

They rode in silence to Melissa’s house while Veronica filled JD in on everyone he would meet.

“They’re good people, mostly, but they’re journalists and somewhere along the way they decided there was a story with us. They’ll probably ask a lot of questions.”

“I’ve been interrogated by the police, I think I can handle a few reporters,” JD scoffed, feigning a confidence he didn’t feel. Anyone even remotely receptive would probably be able to see his confusing mess of feelings for Veronica written across his face.

It was a miracle Veronica couldn’t see them.

“Wow,” JD said as they pulled up. “Nice house.”

Veronica nodded. “I think Melissa comes from money.”

“She must, these townhouses are expensive.”

When they walked in, several people rushed over to Veronica, and JD noticed her tense as they approached.

“Veronica!” A short brunette woman gushed, “I’m so pleased you came! And you must be mysterious motorcycle guy.”

“JD,” He corrected, reaching out to shake her hand. “But I get called that a lot,” He smirked at Veronica who had to bite back a smile as she rolled her eyes at him.

Talking to her coworkers was easy, and as it turned out, the architect who’d redone Melissa’s house recently was someone JD had met, though he had to exaggerate how well they knew each other for the sake of the conversation.

Veronica too, seemed at ease. She was nearby, talking to her boss, Sasha, and the photographer, Dave.

He watched her laughing with them, a drink in her hand; she looked elegant and beautiful. _There she is,_ JD thought, seeing the light in her eyes, _That’s the Veronica I remember._

“So, is she telling the truth?” JD turned his attention back to Melissa, whose sharp brown eyes were pinned to him.

“About what?”

“Veronica claims you’re just neighbors,” Henry said.

JD nodded. “We are neighbors.” He didn’t think the ‘just’ was technically true, but he didn’t correct them.

“You know what’s odd, though,” Henry continued. “I’ve lived in my building for six years and I don’t think I could pick one of my neighbors out of a lineup. You two seem so close.”

“We knew each other in high school and reconnected when she moved here.” It wasn’t a lie, but JD hoped it wasn’t too much information.

“AHAH!” Henry said loud enough that a couple people turned to look at them. “He’s her ex!”

Veronica was at his side in an instant. “It was a long time ago.” She turned to JD. “I hope you aren’t telling them what I was like in high school.”

“Your secrets are safe with me,” He said. _Our secrets._

Her posture relaxed. “I was such a bitch in high school, I’d hate to have you all think of me that way.”

“Trust me,” JD said, “She was nothing compared to some of the girls at that school.”

“Hey! Heather is a great person!” Veronica crossed her arms and glared at him.

“Yeah, sure, but what about Courtney?” Obviously he had no intention of bringing up Heather Chandler, not when things were actually going well.

“Courtney is still a massive bitch,” Veronica said and JD laughed.

“Well then,” Henry said, holding up his glass, “To friends, old and new, and to Courtney, the massive bitch.”

JD finished his drink.

Everything was going well. Veronica stayed with him for the most part, and JD relaxed into the easy company of her boisterous friends enough that she wandered back to talk to Sasha.

Dave flirted with him, and though normally he wouldn’t have minded—Dave was attractive, friendly, and funny—he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Veronica long enough to be invested, something Dave seemed to pick up on.

“What’s she like?” Dave asked, having seemingly accepted that JD’s attention was elsewhere. “Whenever I see her at work I feel like there are a million things going on in her head, but she doesn’t say a single one of them.”

“I understand that,” JD said. He didn’t have an answer to Dave’s question.

“I would kill to be able to capture that on film.”

“So you prefer human subjects?” JD said, steering the conversation away from Veronica. “I’ve known a few photographers, but they were more into nature and architecture.”

“People are more dynamic, so they’re harder to capture. A good picture shows the way people breathe, even in stillness.”

“Is he boring you?” Henry said, joining the conversation. “He can go on for hours.”

JD started to say that he found it interesting, when Dave cut him off. “If we’re boring you, by all means find other company.” His glare indicated that an argument was about to start, so JD left them to it to join Veronica.

Sasha was talking. “—I really would love to read some of your writing Veronica. Heather’s voice is so striking and consistent, I’d love to see what you could do in a different structure. That’s assuming your book isn’t epistolary.” Sasha laughed.

Veronica shifted, discomfort evident on her face and in her posture. JD hung back and listened; this was the first he was hearing about Veronica writing a book.

“It wasn’t,” Veronica said. “It was nonfiction, but I… I lost the draft, so I don’t really have a book.”

JD saw the guarded sadness sweep over her face at the same second he heard a small click of a camera shutter.

Veronica jumped, and everyone nearby turned towards Dave. Instinctively, JD stepped between Veronica and the camera that had startled her so much.

“Dave!” Melissa said. “I thought we agreed, no pictures! Veronica said she doesn’t like it.”

Looking behind him JD saw that Veronica was pale and her jaw was clenched tight. He couldn’t read her emotions but it was clear that she wasn’t alright.

“Let’s go get some air,” He suggested, grabbing the back of her arm lightly and leading her out to a small balcony off of the living room.

It was frigid outside, but Veronica seemed to breath easier when it was just them and the clear winter sky.

He let her sit in silence for a minute before asking, “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Veronica,” He whispered, letting his hand move towards hers on the balcony railing. He stopped before their fingers touched. “You can trust me, you know.”

“I know.”

A frustrated sigh threatened to escape, but he held it in. “I mean… Fuck, Veronica I’m not blind. I see how tense you are. I’ve seen the way you glance out of windows and behind you when you’re walking, like you’re expecting someone to be watching you. You’re scared of something—“

“Stop, JD.”

“Veronica…”

“Please. Stop. I don’t want to talk about it.”

And if she did, he doubted he would be the one she would open up to. After all, despite his words, he wasn’t even sure she could trust him. Why would she, after everything he’d done?

“Okay. But… If you ever do want to talk, I’m here Veronica. I,” He stopped before saying what he was thinking. “I want you to know that.”

Her fingers brushed against his, soft and cold as snow. “I do.”

They stayed like that for a few long moments. It was a quiet sort of intimacy, and JD felt closer to her than he ever had, even without words. It almost felt like he could sense what she was thinking.

“I’m going back to Ohio.”

Or maybe not.

“What?” She was leaving? Did that mean she was moving away?

“For the holidays. I’m going back to see my parents. I think it’ll be nice to get away for a little bit.”

 _Away from me,_ He thought. He almost said, “I’ll miss you.”

Instead, he said, “Have a good time.”

* * *

Veronica watched the Boston skyline fade into the heavy gray snow clouds through the bus window, already regretting her decision to leave. Her parents had been thrilled, but she already knew she would miss her quiet days in her ugly, homey apartment.

And she would miss JD.

But that was why she had to leave. When she got back, things would make sense again. She and JD would be back to their easy friendship and she wouldn’t be thinking about telling him everything, or wondering what it would feel like to let herself be comforted. Everything would be normal.


	8. Distance Makes the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I edited this in a rush, so I apologize if there are more errors than usual, I have work in a few hours and I need to sleep. This chapter is dedicated to Rillie @Bombboi for essentially letting me steal her cat's personality for Nostradamus. Enjoy!

Veronica was back, and she was kissing JD.

It was hard to think of how this had happened, and JD didn’t find that he really wanted to think. It was easier to get lost in it. Her hair was soft in his hands and he could smell the light sweet scent that always seemed to hang around her.

He pulled back for a breath. “I missed you.”

Smiling, she leaned in again to press her lips against his.

And JD woke up.

Rolling over, he groaned, trying to ignore the ache left over from the dream and simultaneously trying to remember the way it had felt.

He wanted to go back to sleep, because he wanted to live in that dream for a few more minutes.

“I’m a fucking creep,” JD muttered, climbing out of bed to splash cold water on his face.

Nostradamus, noticing that he was awake, walked over to his bowl to wait and be fed. Waiting quietly, however, was out of the question, and he made a few long, disgruntled yowls, to make sure that JD knew he was rapidly starving to death.

JD filled the bowl and returned to the living room to stare at a set of plans he couldn’t find the will to work on.

Veronica had been gone for days, and her absence was palpable, as hard as JD tried to ignore it. Dreaming about her was new, and JD hated it.

They were friends. Good friends. And that was far, far more than JD deserved. Wanting or imagining them to be something more was absurd and disrespectful.

Still, it wasn’t like JD could control what he dreamt about.

He stood up to pace, wishing the dream would fade out of his head like most of his others did.

Pacing didn’t work. If anything the dream, and every other Veronica-related thought only got more prevalent.

“I need to get out of here.”

Running helped clear his head. The cold bit into his skin and his legs strained with every step, carrying him further away from their building. He focused, letting the rhythm of his feet pounding against the pavement.

He ran further than he ever had, breaking his records and straining himself far more than he should have.

He also managed to get lost and exhausted, far from home.

“Next time I should bring money when I do this,” He muttered, ducking his head to protect his face from any more windburn.

It took nearly two hours and many wrong turns to get home, and JD walked into the lobby breathing hard, face flushed and throat aching from all that time in the cold.

Dino was sitting at his desk for the first time in weeks, and he actually smiled at JD, something he never did unless JD was handing him money. “Welcome back! Happy holidays!”

Suspicion rose up in JD as he accepted the forced and uncharacteristically cheerful greeting.

“How have you been? It sure is quiet around here, without everyone around.”

JD didn’t need the reminder that he and Dino were basically the only residents in the building. Children and grandchildren had filtered in to pick up the aged relatives, Veronica had left without a word only a couple days after the party, and it was Dino, JD, and his cat.

Dino gestured into his office. “There’s a game on, if you’d like to join me?”

JD didn’t bother to ask what sport it was. “Sorry, I have to feed my cat. Have a good day, Dino.”

He took a long shower to warm up and avoid facing his empty apartment and the silent building.

Exhaustion from the bad night’s sleep and too much time outside crashed over him and he fell asleep.

He woke up hours later as the sun was setting and the silence echoed. Even Nostradamus, Calmly grooming himself on the end of JD’s bed, made no noise at all.

The little sounds he made going about his usual evening routine—feeding Nostradamus, organizing the plans that were still spread across his table—felt odd, almost creepy, without the usual creaks and hum of activity in the building.

JD needed noise. The whole place was too empty, but his apartment especially. The sun was down, Nostradamus was fed, and normally, it would have been time for Veronica to arrive with dinner or with something for them to cook together.

But she was gone, and whatever space she might have filled felt all the more empty without her.

So JD wandered over to his fridge, dug out the leftovers from yesterday and heated them up.

When he returned to the couch, Nostradamus eagerly investigated his dinner, but turned his nose up at it, stalking away.

“What, it’s not good enough for you?” JD asked, choking down a bite, trying not to admit to himself that the cat had a point.

For once not attempting to steal JD’s dinner, Nostradamus settled down next to him and occasionally nudged him or meowed loudly to demand attention. JD did his best to eat one-handed and pet Nostradamus with the other.

Time crept on, and the silence grew oppressive. JD turned the TV on, not bothering to change the channel, and watched the rather gruesome local news with half his attention.

Getting bored, Nostradamus wandered away to whine and paw at his window.

“Nosy, no. It’s fucking freezing out there!” JD insisted, but the cat continued scratching the window, begging to get out.

Finally, JD relented and opened the window enough that Nostradamus could get out, but he kept an eye on him. Winter in Boston wasn’t a good time to lose your cat.

He walked confidently up the fire escape and sat down on the balcony two floors above JD.

Veronica’s floor.

After a couple more minutes of sitting, tail twitching, and staring towards Veronica’s apartment, Nostradamus stood up and began to walk in circles, occasionally stopping to make a loud complaint and swipe at Veronica’s dark window.

JD climbed out and joined Nostradamus on the balcony. “She usually smokes about now, doesn’t she?”

The cat stared back at him, and JD felt like he was trying to communicate his distress. Nostradamus let out another disgruntled wail that pulled at JD’s heart.

“I miss her too sweetie.”

He returned to the too-quite apartment, Nostradamus trailing at his heels.

Freezing from his brief jaunt into the icy night, JD cranked the heat up and returned to the couch, changing the channel to a nature documentary that would be easy to fall asleep to.

It was late enough that he could have gone to his own room, but the idea of laying awake in the dark—even for the few minutes it would take him to fall asleep—was worse that thinking about how bad his neck would hurt if he crashed on the couch.

Apparently also cold, Nostradamus hopped up and settled next to JD, curling in a tight ball on his lap, and JD happily buried his cold-stiffened fingers in Nostradamus’s soft fur.

Content with pets and a warm place to lie down, Nostradamus kneaded on JD’s leg, and though he regretted the claw marks on his jeans, there was something comforting about the contact, and JD felt himself settling into the quiet better.

JD and Nostradamus had been along together for a long time, so this shouldn’t be any different.

And yet, as JD stared out the window and watched the first flakes of snow fall, he knew that it was different. He had gotten used to having the space filled, and the silence was louder now that there was no one to share it with.

* * *

Veronica’s life had always been chaotic, but there was one thing that she could always rely on.

Sherwood, Ohio never changed.

Some of the people in it changed—Veronica herself was perfect evidence of that—but others could be found exactly where they always were. Which was how Veronica knew without a doubt that her parents would be sitting on the living room couch watching TV with a tray of crackers and pate on the coffee table.

“Veronica!” Her mother trilled, standing to give Veronica a hug that barely touched her. “It’s so lovely to see you; your father and I were so pleased you could come home.”

“Yeah,” Veronica said, feeling her voice go high as she feigned enthusiasm, “I’m glad I got it worked out so I could come.”

Soon she was seated in a stiff armchair, facing her parents and attempting to make conversation while she snacked.

“Tell us all about Boston! Do you have any friends?”

Immediately, Veronica’s thoughts jumped to soft brown hair and green eyes under dramatic, arched eyebrows, but she pushed the image away. “I love everyone I work with; they’re a very fun group.”

“Oh yes! And you’re writing for that advice column, you know, just the other day Janet was telling me that she needed help with something. I should have told her to write to you!” Her mother laughed lightly, and Veronica forced a tight, awkward smile.

“How is Janet?” Veronica asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from her life.

Mrs. Sawyer frowned. “Well, she has,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “Cancer. She’s doing well for now but…”

After that it was listening to her mother’s exhaustive list of her friends’ illnesses and some anecdotes about her own ailments. It was dull but it required little input from Veronica, aside from nodding and the occasional sympathetic murmur.

And that was how the next two days went. Veronica nodded through conversations, saying as little as possible, while her parents blathered on about nothing, occasionally mentioning that it had been way too long since she’d visited.

No one mentioned why Veronica hadn’t been able to come home in so long.

On Christmas Eve, Mrs. Sawyer spent the morning in a frenzy as she worked to cook an impractically massive dinner for the three of them.

Veronica and her dad stayed in the living room, enjoying cards and board games so as not to get in the way.

“God, will someone please tell me why I still play scrabble with you?” Mr. Sawyer asked, rolling his eyes as he lost—once again—by a vast margin.

Veronica smiled. “Because you’re an idiot.”

“Veronica!” Her mother shouted from the kitchen. “Come here! I need you!”

Sighing, she hauled herself up and hobbled into the kitchen on legs that were partially asleep. “Yes, mom?”

“We’re out of butter,” Mrs. Sawyer said with a not of panic in her voice. “Could you run to the store? They’re open for another couple of hours.”

The thought of going out in public in Sherwood set Veronica’s heart pounding, but she forced herself to answer. “Sure, mom. Do you need anything else?”

“I made a list.”

Glancing down at the piece of paper and her mother’s neat script, Veronica saw that she was in need of far more than just butter.

“Alright, mom. I’ll go now and see you in a bit.” Calling out a goodbye to her father, Veronica grabbed the keys to their ancient station wagon and left the house.

She pulled the car out carefully to avoid the utility van that was parked across the street and took several long, deep breaths, trying to calm down.

Searching her thoughts, she dug around for something that would help her relax. The only remotely soothing thought was of JD’s apartment and Nostradamus in her lap, watching bad sitcoms and bitching about work, life, and the ache of human existence with JD.

That was soothing. It almost surprised Veronica with it’s effectiveness, but thinking about JD and his living room—one of very few places that made her feel safe—did make breathing a little easier.

Though aspects of that thought weren’t soothing, but it was enough to distract her from the pressing terror of being seen—or worse, being found—and she was able to get herself to the store and out of her car.

Grocery shopping was almost too mundane to be scary. Veronica glanced around corners and checked over her shoulder constantly, but she had been doing that for so long that it was habit, and not the result of her nerves.

“Veronica?”

She tensed, and the thought of running flashed through her mind before she had registered that the voice was female, definitely not Dominic’s.

Plastering a smile on her face, Veronica turned around to face the name-caller.

It took her a moment to recognize the pregnant woman in front of her. “Heather?”

“Oh! Veronica it is you! I thought so.” Heather McNamara smiled broadly and flicked her chemically straightened hair over her shoulder. Aside from a new cheeriness that Veronica found instantly irritating, Heather was exactly the same as she’d been the last time Veronica had seen her, during their first break from college.

It had been awkward, as Veronica and Heather Duke had obviously been close, and Heather McNamara had been the outsider.

Neither Heather Duke, nor Veronica had received invitations to Heather McNamara’s wedding two years ago, to someone she’d met while in school at Remington.

“You look great,” Veronica said, because that was what you were supposed to say at times like this.

Heather beamed. “Oh thank you! I feel like a whale, but it’s been such a gift.” She stroked her stomach with a smile that was straight out of a renaissance painting.

Veronica had to fight the urge to touch her face and make sure her smile was still firmly in place. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“If it’s a girl, we’re calling her Ashley, and if we have a boy, we want to name it after Brad’s father.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Veronica said.

“I know it’s Christmas and everything,” Heather said, “But would you like to come over for a cup of coffee? It’s been so long since we’ve caught up.”

There was really no good way to say no, and Veronica didn’t have the heart to tell Heather that there was a reason they hadn’t spoken in years. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Veronica dropped off the groceries for her mother before Heather came by to pick her up.

“Your house is lovely,” Veronica said as they pulled up. She couldn’t remember ever having used that word before, outside of Heather letters, and it felt strange on her tongue.

Heather beamed as she led the way into the house. “Oh, thank you! Brad’s father gave it to us as a wedding present and it’s just the right size for us.”

It probably was a good size, but Veronica found herself thinking that JD would have been able to make the interior feel far less claustrophobic, had he designed it. At least he wouldn’t have tried to fit so many rooms into one typical suburban home.

Heather handed her a mug of coffee. “So, tell me how you are? Do you still talk to Heather?”

“Yeah. Heather’s still living in Chicago; she loves it. I live in Boston now, I write for a couple newspapers there.”

“Oh how fun! I spend most of my time here. I got a degree in Spanish at Remington, but I haven’t used it. I did a lot of retail until Brad saved me. Now I spend my time at home.”

It was hard to think of that as anything but boring, but Heather seemed happy enough. “So how are things in Sherwood? What’s new?”

“Oh, you know,” Heather said, “Same old Sherwood. Courtney, do you remember her? Well, she’s pregnant too so we talk a lot. And I see Betty Finn all the time around town. Weren’t you two friends?”

Veronica flinched. She and Betty had been friends, but they no longer spoke and the ache of that friendship—lost, rebuilt, and then lost again—still weighed heavily on Veronica. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.”

As they talked, Veronica realized that Heather had never even known Veronica had been living in Sherwood a few months ago.

Of course, Veronica remembered how she had been during that time. She’d barely left her bedroom; much less her house, and she hadn’t wanted to reach out to anyone, especially not people who’d only kind of been her friends in high school.

The same loneliness was starting to settle on Veronica again. When she’d left Boston, she’d been sure it would be for the better, sure that what she needed was space and time away from JD.

But now she missed him.

Now she had to carefully avoid mentioning him, because she didn’t want her parents to think she was seeing someone—they would only worry, or get too excited—and he was never far from her thoughts.

Veronica looked at Heather, and decided to let herself talk about him. “Heather, do you remember Jason Dean?”

“Who?” Heather looked completely mystified, and Veronica was taken aback.

Could she really have no idea who Veronica was talking about?

“I… Veronica paused. “Never mind.”

Maybe the JD that had lived in Sherwood was better forgotten.

Maybe that Veronica was better off forgotten too.

 

Days later, Veronica sat on a bus bound for Boston, and she couldn’t help but smile as weight dropped off her shoulders. Looking forward, Veronica took a deep breath.

She was going home.

* * *

JD woke up on his couch, which had been happening more often with Veronica gone. The night had been blissfully dreamless, something JD tried not to be disappointed by.

After feeding Nostradamus, he tried to get some work done, staring at lines and measurements for an hour with no comprehension, much less progress. Dreams and hopes and other dangerous forms of wishful thinking spun in his head, always coming back to Veronica.

Everything always came back to Veronica.

Tossing his pencil down, he gave up and left the apartment.

He drove southeast and out of the city, letting the wind burn his face as the roads opened up until he was on a highway.

After about an hour, he pulled off, winding through residential roads until he eventually hit the beach, where the ocean crashed loud enough that his thoughts were still drowned out without the roar of his engine.

Then he walked. It was frigid and beautiful and calming, exactly what he needed.

Admitting that he’d missed her had been hard enough, admitting the reasons why he missed her was far harder. JD picked up a stone off the ground and hurled into the crashing waves.

Accepting things was hard for JD. It always had been. He’d wanted to change the world, had decided it was his duty. Upon realizing that he couldn’t—and shouldn’t—he’d been unable to accept it and had nearly killed himself.

But this… this he had to accept.

He and Veronica were friends, and that was enough. Whatever was happening in his head and in his heart, she couldn’t know about it. He couldn’t put that on her after everything he’d already done, and the astounding amount of forgiveness she’d displayed.

Not to mention how scared she still seemed. The last thing she needed was a man throwing his feelings at her and asking her to deal with them.

“I won’t do that to her,” He whispered, staring out at the horizon. “I can’t.”

It ached a little, knowing that he couldn’t tell her, but it was better this way. And he knew it would fade eventually. One or both of them would find someone else and things would be normal.

He stared out over the water and let himself calm down. It was going to be okay. Someday.

On his way home, he drove slower, even as the sky got dark and clouds gathered in the sky.

He paid most of his attention to the roads, but part of his mind was designing a house. He’d started doing it ages ago, when his interest in architecture had started, and now it was essential to his vigilante architecture (as Veronica called it).

This wasn’t for any real project though. It was just a house. Something for him to design and to keep his mind occupied, which it did, all the way back to the city and up the stairs to his apartment.

He opened the door, expecting to find Nostradamus waiting for him, furious at the delay to his dinner, but instead, he saw Veronica.

For a second his heart stopped.

She was back.

She was here.

She smiled. “I can’t believe you starve your cat,” She admonished lightly. “And you should really lock your door, you don’t know what kind of criminal could get in.”

He laughed with her. “I didn’t know you were coming back today.”

“Neither did I, but as it turns out, I really hate Sherwood, Ohio.”

“Me too. I’m glad you’re,” He paused, almost saying ‘home’. “Back.”

“So am I! Are you hungry? My mom made so much food she sent some home with me and I brought it over.”

JD couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m starving.”

They ate together, and she returned to his couch to watch TV, occasionally calling commentary over her shoulder to him as he sketched out an early draft of his design.

When she stood up to go, JD stood with her, stretching his aching back and dropping his pencil.

Veronica smiled at him. “Thanks for letting me break in. I missed this.”

“I missed this too.” He knew it was the closest either of them was going to get to saying ‘I missed you’.

He managed to fall asleep easily, with far less tossing and turning than he’d gotten used to.

When he woke up, it took him a second to orient himself. The smoke alarm was blaring so loud he couldn’t focus, and Nostradamus was curled tight against him under the blankets, something he never did.

He knew he had to get out of there. Something about this felt different than the many times one of his neighbors set off the alarm with bad cooking.

The building was on fire.


	9. Ashes and Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's my birthday, so I thought I'd give y'all an update. Thank you so much for all your enthusiasm about the last chapter, it was so motivating. Enjoy!

When the alarm went off, it was almost like Veronica had been expecting it. Her night had been too good, and she’d been sleeping well, though not deeply. Of course something horrible had to happen.

All the sound was confusing, and for a moment, she struggled to connect the noise to what it meant.

The smell of smoke got her attention immediately and she sat upright, hardly taking time to think as she bolted to the living room, where the smell was stronger. She gagged on it and pulled her t-shirt over her nose before she yanked the window open and climbed out onto the fire escape.

She ran into JD on the way down as he emerged from his room. He held Nostradamus close to his chest and was wearing, for whatever reason, his coat from high school.  

“Veronica, thank god. Take Nosy. I have to go back in.” He shoved the cat into her arms before she could protest.

There was a second as Nostradamus’s claws maintained their grip on JD’s coat, and the cat refused to be separated from him. Veronica felt the same way, but couldn’t find the words to express it.

When JD was fully detached from Nostradamus, he shoved Veronica gently towards the stairs leading to the ground. “Go.”

She shook her head. “You can’t! JD, I smelled smoke, the building’s on fire. You have to come with me.” Nostradamus started to writhe around in her arms, letting out sad, pained mewls.

Unmoved, JD turned away. “They’re old, Veronica; they won’t be able to get out on their own.”

“You might not get out!” Veronica insisted, so desperately she sounded angry.

He had already gone up a few of the stairs, but stopped to turn and face her, spreading his arms in an all too familiar pose, the same stupid, infuriating, cocky smile on his face. “I’m fireproof, babe!”

With that, he ran away before she could scream at him anymore. With no other choice, she carried the still crying cat downstairs to where Dino and Mr. Parrish were already waiting, and staring at the building.

Veronica expected to see flames, but there were none, despite the smoke that issued from the windows next to her own.

“That’s Mrs. Lachlan’s; is she home?” She said urgently to Dino. Her thoughts flew to JD and her heart clawed its way up her throat; there might be two people in there.

Dino never took his eyes off the building. “No. She’s still with her family. Said she wasn’t coming back until the fifth.”

Nostradamus wriggled again, and Veronica adjusted her grip, holding him up so she could press her face into his fur, willing away the tears. _You can come down now, JD. Everyone is out._ Nosy mewed again, his pathetic whimpers seeming to echo Veronica’s thoughts.

Her heart pounded in her chest, marking the time.

A minute ticked by.

Another.

Had it been three minutes since JD had gone in? Four? She was losing track.

Finally, after two more breathless minutes went by, she saw him running down the fire escape, just as the fire trucks showed up.

JD was alive.

Her panic briefly subsided as she felt an overwhelming rage consume her. “You absolute idiot!”

Had she not been holding JD’s cat, she was certain she would have smacked him, a thought that alarmed her enough that she calmed down for a second, before getting ahold of her rage again, though less violently this time.

“What the hell were you thinking? I’m fireproof? Are you fucking insane!”

JD ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. I regretted that after I said it. I mean, Jesus, think of how awful those would have been as last words.”

Veronica snorted, before remembering once again that she was furious. “You could have died! There was no one even in the building, and that’s what the fucking fire department is for.”

One of JD’s eyebrows lifted. “Careful, Veronica, you’re starting to draw attention.”

Ice slipped down her spine and she swallowed hard, looking around her. Dino and Mr. Parrish were watching them closely. Her glare was enough to make them both return their gaze to the building.

She turned back to him. “JD…”

“I’m sorry, Veronica. I really am. I do a lot of shitty, stupid things because sometimes… I think sometimes I need to prove to myself that I’m really different than I used to be.” He looked away, staring at the ground.

Veronica shifted Nostradamus to free one of her arms, and reached out to touch his shoulder. “I know. But honestly JD? I think you would have run back into that building back then too.”

He met her eyes for a second, something tragic and hopeful and unnamable in his expression, but he looked away again without saying anything.

The silence was awkward now, but JD turned his attention to Nostradamus, petting him and attempting to soothe the still-anxious cat.

Abruptly, he looked up. “Jesus, you’re wearing shorts. I didn’t notice.” He pulled his coat off, revealing a toned chest that took her by surprise.

He took Nostradamus so she could put it on, which she did. “Aren’t you freezing now?”

“Will you think I’m less tough and manly if I say yes?”

“I never thought you were tough or manly.” Veronica lied, still looking at his chest.

“Well then I have nothing to lose. It’s fucking freezing out here!” He cuddled the cat even closer to himself, most likely to keep warm, but Veronica felt like it was a personal attack. She was blushing enough that she hardly needed the coat anymore.

_You can’t be attracted to him. You definitely can’t be attracted to him while your house is on fire!_ Face burning, Veronica looked away from JD.

She played with the cuffs of his coat. “What made you want to save this, anyway?”

“It was still out from when I showed it to you; I just grabbed it because it was the first thing I touched and I knew I’d want it. Why’d you run out without anything?”

Veronica crossed her arms over her chest. “The building was on fire! I could smell smoke! I just panicked and ran.”

“I’m glad you made it out.” There was sincerity in his eyes, and once again, Veronica had to look away, because she couldn’t deal with JD shirtless, holding a cat, and being sincere all at once.

The firefighters emerged from the building, and Veronica suddenly realized how loud everything had been when the noise from the truck engine and the hose suddenly stopped.

She looked up and around, noticing that the fire had drawn a bit of a crowd. Looking across the street, she caught a glimpse of movement. There was a man, still in the shadows, looking their way.

It was too dark to make out a face, but already a familiar panic was setting in. Was he looking at her? Was it—?

“Veronica? Are you okay?” JD searched her face.

She nodded, looking back and seeing no trace of the man she’d been certain was watching her a second ago. “Yeah, it’s… I guess it’s nothing.”

After a minute of talking to the firefighters, Dino waved the tenants over. “They said we can go in and wait in the lobby for a bit while they do a full damage inspection and figure out what started it. Don’t ask me anything; I don’t know.” Without another word, he turned and went inside.

With no other options, Veronica and JD followed him.

The mood in the lobby was strange, as everyone sat in silence and tried not to make eye contact with one another. Veronica kept glancing at the door, hoping she wouldn’t see the figure from before, waiting across the street.

JD’s attention was on Nostradamus, who was still obviously anxious. He stayed close to JD and protested pathetically every time JD had to move him or change his position.

Dino and Mr. Parrish sat away from them, also saying nothing. The only sound was JD’s occasional reassurances to his cat, which Veronica found oddly comforting as well.

When the firefighters returned, their faces were grim, but they had removed their helmets and they appeared relaxed.

Everyone stood to hear what they had to say. “We found the source of the fire. It was in apartment Five C; someone left a space heater plugged in, probably for a long time. Those things aren’t meant to do that. We see this all the time when it gets cold.”

“How bad is the damage?” Dino said, and Veronica could almost see the questions about insurance and payment flash across his eyes.

“Well, the place is still standing, and almost all of it is livable, though it’ll smell smoky for a while. But the fifth floor took some damage. Five B and C won’t be livable until the damage has been repaired and they’ve been thoroughly aired out. Everyone else is good to go.”

Veronica’s stomach dropped, and she gasped before she had time to control her reaction. “But—“

JD put his hand on her back and whispered in her ear, “It’ll be fine.”

She didn’t think it would be, but the shock and fear were too powerful for her to summon an argument for him. Instead, she let him lead her up to his apartment, which was untouched, though the smell of smoke lingered.

As soon as he was on the ground, Nostradamus darted away, presumably to hide under JD’s bed.

Veronica wished she could go with him; hiding sounded nice.

“What am I going to do,” She whispered to herself, beginning to pace. “I can’t afford this. The repairs, finding somewhere to stay…”

“The insurance—“ JD started. Veronica cut him off.

“Won’t come through fast enough. I barely have anything saved and my parents are already paying my rent. This will freak them out. Jesus, I’m going to have to go home—“

“Veronica, stop. You can stay with me.” JD put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her frantic movement.

“I… what?” Her thoughts were too muddled to make sense of his words.

“Just stay here while they fix your place. You sleep here half the time anyway, it’s not that big of a deal.”

But it was a big deal. Living with JD seemed like crossing one of their carefully placed, unspoken lines. He was right that she slept over occasionally, but that was usually accidental, the result of drinking too much or coming over after a particularly exhausting day. Choosing to stay here was a different animal.

JD sighed, dragging his hand through his hair. “You don’t have to decide right now. Just let me grab a shirt and then you can crash in my room for the rest of the night. We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

“I’ll take the couch,” Veronica said.

“No, I—“

“JD, please don’t argue with me.” Some part of her exhaustion must have been clear on her face or in her voice, because JD stopped.

“Okay. Goodnight, Veronica.” For a single second, he leaned in, and Veronica thought he might hug her, but he didn’t. He turned away, crossed the room, and closed his bedroom door behind him.

Veronica watched him go and wished that he had.

* * *

JD leaned against his bedroom door, the wood cold against his bare back.

What the fuck had he been thinking? Asking Veronica to live with him was insane. He could have offered to pay for a hotel room, or let her use his place while he moved into one of the apartment buildings he’d designed.

The last thing he should have done was what he had done.

Nostradamus emerged cautiously from his hiding place to twine around JD’s legs. “You okay, Nosy?” JD asked, crouching down to pet him. “I know you had a scary night.”

The cat purred softly, and JD smiled. He wished he could recover as fast as Nostradamus could.

“Veronica’s going to stay with us for a little while, is that okay with you?” The purring intensified as JD found Nostradamus’s favorite spot under his chin.

JD rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say, she actually likes you.”

He climbed into bed and tried to ignore the faint smell of smoke, which he had always hated. Nostradamus joined him, choosing to curl up right behind JD’s neck, rather than on a separate pillow like usual.

He was restless. Dreams filled with flame and smoke and buildings turning to ash kept him in an anxious half-sleep that left him almost more exhausted than he’d started out.

Shuffling into the kitchen, he was startled to find Veronica already awake and making coffee. He had almost forgotten she was here. Almost.

“Morning,” She said, smiling slightly and not meeting his eyes.

He nodded and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.”

“Me too.”

They were both lying, and they probably both knew it, so neither of them said anything.

The silence stretched on. JD almost missed her anger from the night before. As alarming as it had been—there was a part of JD that had thought she would hate him for his self-destructive behavior—it had felt more honest than a lot of their conversations did.

And anything was better than more silence.

“I was thinking about calling some guys I know to come look at your place today,” JD said, just to fill the silence. “A couple of them owe me favors, so they might be able to get things fixed faster than whatever hack Dino hires.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Veronica said quickly.

“I know, but… Well, I guess you could say I owe you a favor,” He said, attempting a joke.

She didn’t find it funny. Veronica turned away from him, stirring her coffee and staring out the window.

JD sighed, dragging his hand through his hair and wishing he could say the right thing for once. “I just meant… Is it okay if I help you with this? I know a lot of people in the business, and I feel bad that you’re stuck out of your house.”

Slowly, Veronica nodded. “Okay. Can we go over there? I need to get clothes but it just… I don’t know, I feel weird going alone.”

“Yeah. Let me make a couple calls and then we’ll go up.”

An hour later, they were wrapping up a meeting with a contractor JD knew in Veronica’s apartment.

It smelled like smoke, and one wall was almost totally blackened. Her refrigerator had been spared, and the stove was salvageable, but she needed a new sink and some new cabinets.

“So,” Marty said to JD, his thick Boston accent coloring every word, “I do this for you and we’re even?”

JD nodded. “Absolutely.”

Marty turned to Veronica. “You’ve got a fine man there, hopefully he’s smart enough not to let you get away.”

Choking on a laugh, JD watched Veronica flounder for a response, which she didn’t manage to find before Marty walked out of the apartment.

“That man,” Veronica said slowly, “Was the human personification of the city of Boston.”

JD snorted. “Maybe, but he’s the best damn contractor I know, and he knows all the best guys. This place’ll be better than it was in no time.”

Veronica smiled and reached out to touch a charred lace curtain. “I think broiled chic might actually be an improvement on the décor.”

He grimaced, not quite wanting to agree with her, but doing so all the same.

“They’re sure it was really an accident, right?” Veronica asked abruptly.

“Yeah, those space heaters are a mess, you hear about them causing fires all the time.”

“Yeah, of course.” Veronica turned away from the window. “Has anyone heard from Mrs. Lachlan?”

“She’ll probably stay with her son in Worcester, she was with him for the holidays I think.”

She smiled at him. “You know a lot about our neighbors, don’t you?”

“Just some of them,” JD said. “Mrs. Lachlan asked me for help picking out a gift for her son and told me about visiting him. She told me everything about him, actually; she’s very proud.”

Veronica snorted. “She’s barely spoken ten words to me since I moved here, but I guess I haven’t said much to her, either.”

JD had noticed that Veronica didn’t say much to anyone, except for him, and he knew there was a lot she didn’t say to him too.

“Veronica, I’m really sorry this happened. I know you were just starting to get settled.”

She shrugged, once again glancing out the window. He thought for a second she was looking for something on the street below, but she turned back to him. “I’m just glad I have a place to stay. Having to do this on my own would be a disaster.”

“Have you told your parents yet?”

“No, I thought about doing it while you were dealing with Marty but I don’t want to worry them. They were happy things were going well here and… I just don’t want to upset them.”

Once again, JD felt that there was a lot Veronica wasn’t telling him, but as always, he didn’t push her. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“You know, I could live here. It smells, but the bedroom is untouched and the living room isn’t that bad, I could—“

“Veronica, it smells horrible in here. Just stay with me while they air it out and fix your kitchen. I honestly don’t mind.” It was more than just not minding, but JD didn’t want to say that, so he kept it to himself.

* * *

They walked back to JD’s apartment together. JD explained how he knew Marty and his crew while Veronica smiled along, not really listening.

She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to live with him. Sure, she spent a lot of time with him, and they were definitely friends, but living together?

It didn’t help that the last person Veronica had lived with outside of her family was Dominic, and that hadn’t ended well.

_JD isn’t Dominic,_ Veronica reminded herself firmly. _This won’t be like last time._

It was an unusual situation, but she’d stayed at his place before, and she felt comfortable there. More than comfortable. Veronica felt safe in JD’s apartment. Even after she’d thoroughly convinced herself that whatever she’d seen in the alley was just the result of her anxious mind, conjuring up something to be afraid of because of the fire, she’d been glad to know that she wasn’t alone.

They walked into JD’s apartment and both flopped onto the couch. Nostradamus wandered over to investigate them, but upon smelling the smoke that lingered on their clothes, dashed back to hide in JD’s bedroom.

“Oh, shit, I should check my mail. Heather probably has a dozen letters I need to look at.” Veronica groaned and heaved herself into a standing position.

“Alright,” JD said, “I’ll work on some plans.”

Veronica crossed the room to look at JD’s table, covered as usual with draft paper. She studied the one on top and tried to remember what he’d said all the symbols meant.

“This is… a house,” Veronica said. “Not an apartment, that’s unusual for you. It’s… is it big? Shit, I hate math. I don’t think it’s big though. And there are a lot of windows, right?”

JD laughed and walked over to join her. “Yeah. I was walking down a beach and got the idea for it. This is just a rough outline though.”

“I like it,” Veronica said decisively and JD beamed.

They spent the afternoon working. Veronica wrote her answers by hand, planning to fax them or take them into the office tomorrow. Sasha was a tough boss, but far from heartless; she would understand if some things were late because Veronica’s home had nearly burned down.

After a few hours of companionable silence, JD shifted next to her, pushing away from the table to stretch.

He smiled across the table at Veronica. “So… dinner?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought for a second she saw someone on the street, but she quickly pushed the thought away. She wasn’t going to fall back into that trap. She was safe here.

So she smiled back at him. “Sounds very.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they're roommates... Oh my god, they're roommates


	10. Someone is Watching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so proud of this chapter. I don't even have anything to say, I'm just thrilled with how it turned out. Thank you all for the birthday wishes! Enjoy

“I’m living with Veronica,” JD said.

Cab choked on the sip of coffee he’d been taking, the largest reaction JD had ever seen him have to anything he’d said. “Your neighbor? I know we took a break for the holidays, but that seems… sudden.”

JD was silent for a minute and Cab backtracked. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t want you to think I’m judging you. I know you hoped your relationship—“

“No, it’s not that. I’m surprised too,” JD said; he didn’t want to talk about his ‘relationship’ with Veronica. “The building caught fire and she needed somewhere to stay while they fixed her place.”

“Your building caught fire? Jesus, you’ve had a week. Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

It was a relief to tell someone about it. Cab listened with his usual thoughtful expression while JD explained about Veronica leaving and coming home, the fire, running back in, and how Veronica ended up living with him.

Afterwards, JD took a long sip of water. Cab slowly took off his glasses, polished them on his shirt, and returned them to his face. “That’s quite a story.”

“Yeah.”

“I can tell you this, JD, our sessions are never boring.”

JD snorted. “I aim to entertain.”

“How do you feel about this? What you did was very kind, but it also represents a major change in your life; how are you handling it?”

“Too well,” JD answered.

“Explain that,” Cab said, sitting back and waiting.

JD sighed and shifted in his seat. “It feels normal. Having Veronica around, hearing her moving around the apartment in the morning, knowing she’ll be around later, it all feels… Never mind.”

One eyebrow arched up over Cab’s glasses. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just… I don’t want to get used to this. She’s only living here because she has to, and she’s clearly not thinking about it the same way I am.”

“How do you know what she’s thinking?”

Letting out an irritated huff, JD said, “I don’t know for sure, but I see how she acts. And I know her pretty well. She has other things on her mind.”

Cab tilted his head. “Can you tell me where that frustration is coming from?”

“What frustration?” JD snapped.

There was a long pause as Cab waited for JD’s self-awareness to kick in, which it eventually did. JD sighed. “I’m not frustrated that she isn’t thinking of me; I’m not absolute shit. I’m frustrated that I have no idea what she’s thinking about. She stays one step back from me, and I know something’s wrong, but she won’t say what. And it’s getting worse.”

“Worse in what way? And I should also probably ask what ‘it’ is?” Cab took another sip of coffee while JD thought about his response.

“She’s scared. All the time, I think. Sometimes she’ll be relaxing, and then a car will go by suddenly, or there’ll be a noise from outside and she tenses like she’s about to get hit. We walked around the corner to a diner one time, and during the three-minute walk, she checked behind her four times at least. I’m not a doctor, but I know what paranoia looks like.”

“So what do you want?” Cab asked, and the veneer of carelessness dropped away. “If she is paranoid, if there is something wrong, what do you want to do about it?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just want to know that she’s safe. And I want her to talk to me. I want her to trust me.”

“Why?”

JD had to think about that for a while. “I don’t know,” He finally said.

Cab nodded slowly. “I think that’s all the progress we’ll make for today, but try to keep thinking about that. Why Veronica’s trust? Or do you just want to know that someone trusts you, not her specifically? You don’t have to answer now, just think about it.”

He didn’t have to think about it. He knew the answer to Cab’s questions, but he hadn’t known how to explain it, and he hadn’t been sure he wanted to.

JD often thought that he was only pretending to be stable, and that any second he could snap and hurt someone. But Veronica knew him. If she trusted him, then maybe he could start to trust himself.

There was also the fact that—despite what she said—JD still felt that he owed her something, not just for saving his life, but also for everything he’d put her through.

Still thinking about therapy, JD made his way up to his apartment and opened the door. He was surprised to find it empty, until he noticed that the window was open.

He climbed out and found Veronica sitting on his balcony with Nostradamus.

She didn’t turn to him, exhaling smoke into the sky. “Hi.”

“Hey. How are you?”

She sighed. “Bored.”

That was a dangerous emotion on Veronica. “How was work?”

Veronica took another drag. “I don’t want to wish problems on people, but someone in this city needs to have an interesting problem soon.”

JD laughed, reaching out so Nostradamus could investigate his hand before presenting his head for pets. “You’d think in a city this big, there’d be someone who has a problem worth your time.”

“That person probably has friends, so they don’t need Heather’s help. I did get one woman who was very worried about the fact that she was married, sleeping with some other guy, and just found out she’s pregnant. I can’t answer letters like that though so I had to toss it.”

“I thought you picked your letters?”

Veronica shrugged. “I do, but there are some things I’m not allowed to answer. The paper basically says don’t talk about sex or criminal activity. At my last job in Columbus, I got a letter from a kid who was worried he was gay. My editor told me I couldn’t answer it; I was furious.”

“Is that why you left?” JD knew Veronica had spent some time living in Columbus, but that it hadn’t lasted long. Like most things, Veronica had never explained what happened.

“No… I mean, that was part of why I didn’t like working there, but I left for other reasons.”

Other reasons. As always, Veronica had to find a way to be vague.

“What about you?” Veronica said, and JD allowed her to change the subject without comment. “How was work?”

“Oh, I wasn’t at work.” JD paused for a second, not sure if Veronica would want to hear this. “I was with my therapist.”

There was a long silence while Veronica took a drag and exhaled. “Oh.”

“Oh?” JD said, raising one eyebrow at her.

She backtracked rapidly. “I mean, I figured you’d had one I just… I guess I thought you still went.”

“What, you thought I was all better?” JD asked, barely holding in a laugh, though he had to admit he was a little bit pleased.

Veronica snorted with a small puff of smoke. “Most days it seems like you’re doing better than me.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t say anything.

Before the silence could drag on too long, Veronica said, “So what’s it like?”

“What?”

“Therapy,” She said, a small smile playing around her lips.

JD laughed. “You’ve never been?”

“Are you saying I need it?”

“Please understand that I don’t mean this as an insult at all, but yes, I do.”

She put her hand against her chest, miming offense. “How dare you!”

They both laughed, and Veronica looked over at him, one eyebrow lifted in a challenging expression. “So, do you talk about me?”

Suddenly flustered, JD looked away, glad that the cold night would excuse the redness in his cheeks. “I… You’ve come up.”

“Oh, I’ve come up?” Veronica laughed. “Jason Dean, do you say mean things about me to your therapist?”

“What? No,” JD insisted.

“I don’t believe you.” She turned to face him, smiling. The challenge was still on her face, but JD couldn’t name what she was asking for.

Without his permission, his eyes darted down to her lips and he caught his breath. Smiling and windswept, blushing from the cold, Veronica was beautiful. He dropped his head, thinking about taking a chance and—

“I have to go inside.”

Veronica’s cheeks had lost their color, and her voice was choked. Wild eyes saw past him, searching the street frantically. Every trace of her smile was gone.

She scrambled clumsily back through the window and he stood, looking out over the darkened street and trying to force his eyes to adjust past the bright glare of the streetlight in front of him.

He couldn’t see anything.

When he got back inside, Veronica was sitting on the couch, a vacant expression on her face and a bottle of vodka in her hand.

“Hey, uh, do you want some food to go with that? Or maybe a glass?” JD smiled, awkwardly attempting to get back to their joking.

Veronica didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at him.

“Veronica?” He said, stepping towards her.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was as tight as her grip on the bottle.

God, he wanted to push her. To ask her what she was thinking, to beg, demand, or wheedle answers out of her. But one look at her face stopped him. He couldn’t do that to her. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

The apartment was too damned small after that.

JD didn’t want to be near her, but there weren’t many other places to be, and it wasn’t like he could focus on work. He made soup and left her a bowl, though she didn’t touch it, and he barely ate any more.

Just before he went to bed, as he was closing his bedroom door, he turned around. “You don’t have to talk to me, Veronica, but you should talk to someone. My therapist—“

“Goodnight, JD.” Without bothering to change, Veronica grabbed her blanket off the edge of the couch and wrapped it around herself, turning her back on him.

He closed the door. “Goodnight, Veronica.” His whisper fell heavily in the silence of his dark room.

 _You stupid bastard,_ JD thought to himself. _I scared her._ His face burned as he thought about what he’d almost done. _I’ll never touch her again,_ He promised himself, even if the thought hurt.

Sleep evaded him, which was a blessing, because he didn’t think he could survive dreaming about her tonight.

The next day brought with it a restless energy. The sun was bright and frigid outside, illuminating a tired-eyed Veronica, already awake at the table.

“Did you sleep okay?” JD asked, though it felt like he was mocking her; she obviously hadn’t.

“Yes.”

Veronica continued to avoid speaking to him for the rest of the day. It was hours before she said anything.

“I have to go in for a layout meeting tonight. You don’t have to wait for me for dinner.”

JD knew that he would wait for her, and he wondered if Veronica knew too. “Okay, do you need a ride to your meeting?”

The same panicked look from the night before crossed her face, but she hid it in a flash. “No, thanks. Every time you drop me off everyone talks, so I’ll just take the bus.”

“So you don’t want to be seen with me?” JD said, attempting a joke that fell flat when Veronica flinched.

He cleared his throat, wishing the building would catch fire again so that at least they’d have something to talk about. “Well, good luck at your meeting.”

“Thanks.”

As soon as she was gone, JD changed into running clothes. It was getting dark, and the cold day was rapidly becoming biting, but he needed the movement.

He regretted it after only two blocks. It hurt to breathe and the cold stiffened his muscles until every step felt wrong. Though he usually liked to go at least a mile, he turned back after only half of one.

Only a block away from his building, as he was passing an alley, hands closed around his shoulder, throwing him off balance and shoving him face first into a brick wall.

Instinct took over before JD could process the shock, and he pushed back against his attacker, managing to spin around, only for a fist to connect with his eye.

Blinded, he staggered back, slamming hard into the wall. Ducking away from another fist, JD kicked out, and his foot connected solidly with his attacker’s shin.

It bought him enough time to throw an elbow in the direction of the guy’s face. What he hit was slightly softer, and JD heard a sharp cough. He’d hit him in the throat.

The guy fell back slightly, and JD pushed him hard, sprinting the last few blocks to his building.

* * *

Veronica could tell JD was upset. It was hard not to tell. She felt terrible, but fear twisted in her stomach and she choked on her words every time she tried to tell him anything.

Things had been so good. Sitting on the fire escape, laughing with him as she smoked, had been the happiest she’d felt in ages. For a second, she’d thought he was going to kiss her, and she thought she would have let him.

But over his shoulder, she’d seen someone waiting in the dark. Perhaps it had been nothing, just someone looking for a taxi or walking home late at night.

She wished she believed her own platitudes. Something about the way he’d been standing had been too familiar. His posture, the line of his shoulders, perhaps it was her paranoid imagination but it seemed like she recognized it.

If she was right—and she was desperately praying to a nonexistent god that she wasn’t—she couldn’t risk JD getting hurt. If Dominic had found her here…

She didn’t let her mind go there. Sitting on the crowded bus was the worst place to have a panic attack. She wished she’d brought a flask.

Glancing over her shoulder, she searched the bus for familiar faces, but saw none. Still, the feeling of being watched didn’t leave her as she got off at her stop, or when she approached the Herald office building.

“Veronica!”

She nearly leapt out of her skin, jerking around she put her hands up to shield herself.

“Shit, sorry,” Dave said as he approached her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Veronica stammered, “I’m fine.”

Dave watched her suspiciously for a moment before he started walking towards the building.

They rode up to the Socials’ office together, and Dave chatted idly about spending Hanukkah with his large, energetic family.

Veronica smiled and nodded along. Her Christmas had been boring enough that she didn’t have anything to share, even if she’d wanted to.

When they arrived, the small conference room was already a flurry of movement as everyone vied for space on the layout page.

Sasha waved at them. “This is going to be a long one; there’s coffee in the corner.”

“None for Veronica,” Dave said. “She seems like she’s had enough.”

Veronica forced a laugh that didn’t sound even slightly real. “He startled me earlier. I’ve been jumpy lately.”

“You do seem nervous,” Melissa noted, looking up from the draft page. “Maybe you should cut back on caffeine.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

After that it was a blur of work and editing and arguments over who got what space. Veronica stayed out of it, except when they needed another opinion or when someone tried to use some of Heather’s space for their pieces.

When they finally reached a stopping place, it was like taking a break after running a marathon. Veronica leaned against the wall with her eyes closed, yearning for the moment when she could return to her warm apartment and.

Her thoughts stopped. She hadn’t been picturing her apartment. In her mind, she’d been thinking about JD’s leather couch and worn coffee table, the framed blueprints over the TV. JD’s apartment. Not hers.

“So how’s JD?” Dave asked, interrupting her thoughts and providing a welcome distraction.

“He’s… Good.”

“Really?” Dave raised his eyebrows. “Are you guys fighting?”

“No,” Veronica said, “And we aren’t together. It’s not like that. I just…” As much as she wanted to tell someone that she was living with him, she didn’t want the whole office to know. She trusted Dave, but Melissa was ruthless in her pursuit of gossip, and Veronica didn’t want to risk it.

“Things have been complicated?” Dave asked. “Well, you’ll figure it out. If you ever want to talk, or give me his number, just let me know.”

That surprised a laugh out of Veronica. “You want his number?”

“Yeah, I don’t know.” Dave shrugged. “He just seemed cool at the party, you know?”

Veronica nodded. “Yeah. He’s a good guy.” It almost surprised her when she said it, realizing she was being honest. Though she could still vividly remember what JD looked like when he’d shot Ram, that image, and the one of the JD she knew was waiting for her at home were so different, she couldn’t really think of them as the same person.

“He didn’t seem interested though.” Dave shrugged.

“Oh, well, I know he’s dated guys—“

“That’s not what I meant,” Dave said, laughing a little. “You know he didn’t take his eyes off of you the whole time we were at that party?”

An odd pang hit Veronica’s stomach. She hadn’t known. How had she not noticed the feeling of eyes on her? Or had she noticed the feeling, but not been sickened by it because they were JD’s eyes?

She swallowed hard. “JD and I are just good friends. We tried being together and it didn’t work out.” Understatement of the decade.

“Well, in that case maybe I should try to call him. Can I have his number?”

Veronica stopped, searching her brain frantically. “I don’t have it.”

“What? Don’t you guys hang out all the time?”

“Yeah, but we live in the same building, I’ve never had to call him. Whenever I want to talk to him I just go down and knock on his window.”

“His window?” Dave’s eyebrows arched up in surprise. “Did you mean his door?”

“Um… Yeah. I meant door. Sorry about the number though, if you want I can give him yours?”

Dave just laughed. “You know what, I can tell there’s something weird between you too, and I don’t want to get between it. I’ll think I’ll just start hanging out at the Eagle more often.”

Though she knew she shouldn’t, and she had genuinely meant her offer to give Dave’s number to JD, she was relieved he hadn’t taken her up on it. Why she was relieved, she didn’t want to examine too closely. She wasn’t jealous; the idea of JD dating someone didn’t fill her with rage or sadness, but it didn’t sit right with her.

She forced a smile. “Well, let me know if that doesn’t work out.”

“Will do. Hey, is something wrong with your phone? Sasha said earlier that she called you a couple times.”

“Oh, my apartment caught fire so I’ve been staying with a friend.”

Suddenly, everyone in the room was looking at her. “What?” Sasha said, the first to speak through the dumbfounded silence.

Skin crawling from the attention, Veronica said, “My neighbor left a space heater plugged in while she was gone and it caught fire. I’m fine but my place needed some repairs so I’m staying with a friend.”

Melissa stared at her. “Your house caught fire, and we’re just now hearing about it?”

“Not everyone whines about things the way you do, Melissa,” Henry said. “But seriously, Veronica, why didn’t you say anything? We could have taken care of things here for you if you had stuff to do.”

Veronica laughed nervously, hating the attention. “You’re just trying to steal space from Heather. I’m really fine. It was good to get out of my friend’s place for a bit.”

“Wait.” Melissa put up her hand like she was about to make an important announcement. “Are you living with your hot neighbor with the motorcycle?”

“His name’s JD,” Dave pointed out. “We’ve all met him.”

“Are you?” Melissa pressed, ignoring Dave.

Veronica sighed, realizing there was no getting out of this, though she really, really didn’t want to talk about it. “Yes, just temporarily though, while my place gets fixed.”

With work talk thoroughly derailed, Sasha broke up the meeting and everyone filtered out. Dave walked with Veronica.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not going to need that number, Veronica,” He joked. “I can’t believe you didn’t mention you were living together.”

“I don’t really know how to talk about it,” Veronica said. “It’s only been a few days.”

They made it down to the street and Veronica angled herself towards the bus stop, checking her surroundings periodically for suspicious people.

“Do you want to share a cab? Boston busses late at night creep me out,” Dave offered.

Veronica didn’t have to search her pockets to know she didn’t have enough money for that. “Isn’t your place the opposite direction? I don’t want to take you out of your way.”

He shrugged. “It’s no trouble, and I feel bad for spooking you earlier, this’ll make me feel better.”

“I don’t have enough for cab fare. I really don’t mind the bus.” Could he tell she was lying? It sounded like an obvious lie, even to her ears.

Dave stared at her for a second. “You’ve got a lot of secrets, don’t you, Veronica? Come on, cab’s on me.”

She couldn’t argue anymore, so she just went with him. It felt better to be in the cab, even if her heart sped up every time she saw the driver’s eyes watching her in the rearview mirror, and she got home far faster than she would have.

Dave opened the door for her when they got to her building. “Take care of yourself, Veronica.” Something about his words were too sincere for them to just be a casual goodbye. He held her eyes. “Whatever you’re dealing with, there are people who want to help you.”

Nodding, Veronica thanked him awkwardly and fled the cab. After all that sympathy, the last thing she wanted was to was return to face JD’s desperate need to help, which was obvious even when she wasn’t looking at him, but it wasn’t like she had a choice.

Carefully opening the door, she prayed he would already be asleep, but she could hear him moving around in the kitchen.

Veronica approached cautiously, but stopped in her tracks when he turned around.

His face.

“Oh my god.” Her breath caught. Her throat closed. “What—what happened?” It was barely a gasp, but the words formed well enough to be understandable.

His eye was swollen and the vivid red of a fresh bruise, and his lip was split open, the blood still shiny.

“Veronica, I’m fine.” He stepped forward to reassure her.

She barely heard his words. Her vision blurred with tears she fought to keep in her eyes. “Jesus, what—“

“Some idiot kid tried to mug me; it’s not a big deal, Veronica.” She heard him attempt to laugh like this was all a joke, but she was far from finding it funny.

“Did you see him?” Her voice came out as a whisper. This couldn’t be happening. Every paranoid thought she’d dismissed flooded back into her head until she was drowning in them.

“Veronica,” JD stepped forward and put his hands on her shoulders. It broke all of their careful, unspoken rules but it also felt like the only thing keeping her from curling into a ball. “I’m fine, Veronica. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. This is… I’m sorry.”

“Shh.” He kept his grip, gently moving one of his thumbs in a comforting circle. “It’s okay. It was just some kid. I’m fine, honestly.”

Reaching up, Veronica brushed the tips over the red edges of his bruise. “Are you sure? Can you… can you tell me what he looked like?” Her heart was in her throat. This felt too well timed to be random. Just last night she’d thought they were being watched as they laughed together on the fire escape. Now JD was in front of her, bruised and bloody.

Maybe she wasn’t paranoid. Maybe Dominic had found her again.

That thought brought a fresh wave of panic, undoing whatever calm JD had managed to instill in her. Her breathing picked up again and her vision went a little dark.

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. I didn’t get a good look at him. He got me in the eye pretty fast, and I was trying to get away more than get a description, but I’m sure it was nothing. This is Boston, shit like that happens all the time.”

She wanted to ask him how he knew, how he could be so sure, but she wanted to believe him even more. She nodded. “Right, yeah.”

“It’s okay.”

She nodded. Her panic began to subside, not because she was any less scared, but because it was too exhausting to keep it up. Slowly she leaned forward until her forehead was resting on JD’s shoulder.

Very carefully, he wrapped his arms around her. She let him hold her, and she didn’t even care that they were crossing all their lines.

He led her to the couch and brought her food, which she picked at without much interest. She stayed close to him, rather than maintain their usual careful distance on the couch, she let her shoulder rest against his warm, steady frame.

The TV provided background noise, filling the silence so that she didn’t have to. It almost felt like a normal night, except when she reached out to hold his hand, and he twined their fingers together.

Tired and slightly comforted, Veronica rested her head against JD’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

JD turned his head towards her, and she barely heard him whisper into her hair, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

She wanted to tell him that he hadn’t scared her; that someone else had. She wanted to tell him that that someone might be outside his apartment, standing on the street, watching them.

But she didn’t want to believe that was true. For now, it was easier to think she was crazy than to think she was right. So she fell asleep and didn’t say anything.

 


	11. Space Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School and stuff is stressful, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep up with updates at the same rate I have been. Sorry about that. Enjoy!

Two days later, JD’s bruise had darkened to a frightening purple. They were moving around the kitchen, and Veronica kept stealing discreet looks at it, wondering if it hurt, wondering who put it there.

“It’s fine, Veronica,” JD said, and Veronica realized that perhaps she hadn’t been as subtle as she’d thought. “I mean it, it barely hurts anymore.”

“It looks so bad,” She said, chewing her lip.

JD snorted. “Thanks. And this isn’t even the worst I’ve had. Some of the fights I got in when I was in high school left me looking way worse.”

“You would be the type to pick fights,” Veronica said dryly.

He snorted again. “Veronica, I wore an earring, fights picked me whether I wanted them to or not. That’s why I resorted to shit like the gun trick. It stopped the fights before they started.”

She knew he was referring to firing blanks at Kurt and Ram, but her thoughts had gone to the clearing behind the school, and bodies on the ground. Swallowing hard, she recovered her composure. “Of course. It’s far more logical to bring a gun into a school and shoot blanks at someone, rather than taking out the earring.”

“I never claimed to be logical, Veronica.”

“What ever happened to the earring anyway? I kind of liked that.”

JD shrugged. “I lost it after everything went down. I still have the hole though.”

“Maybe you can borrow one of mine sometime.” She smiled and grabbed her coffee off the counter, leaving the kitchen in favor of the living room.

“God, this weather sucks,” JD said, staring out at the slate gray sky that was spitting an indeterminate mixture of snow and rain.

Veronica nodded. “I wish I didn’t have to go anywhere.”

“Me too, but the church project is going well. I’m doing a walkthrough with the buyers to discuss a couple layout changes they were thinking about.”

“Changes? Isn’t it a little late for that?” JD had driven her by the church once to show her how it looked, and construction seemed to be on its way.

“No, they’ve done a bit of the framing, but that’s not too hard to change. It’ll be more expensive but that’s not my business.” He shrugged.

“I hope it goes well. Any word on my place?” She hated being in her apartment while the workers were there—too many unfamiliar men and loud noises— so JD had started doing most of the talking for her. She didn’t like needing him for things, but it was nice to have a way to avoid it.

“It’s going to be a few weeks. Unsurprisingly, not a lot of maintenance has been done on the place in a while. Oh, the guys said your phone’s been ringing.”

Veronica’s blood ran cold for a second. Had she received more silent calls? Or worse, had Dominic left her a message, just to let her know she’d been found?

Taking a deep breath and looking away before JD could see anything wrong in her expression, Veronica said, “It’s probably Heather. I never told her about the fire, so she doesn’t know to call me at your number.”

“It’s on a sticker by the phone if you need it.” He picked up his backpack and moved towards the door. “If you need anything—“

She cut him off before he could mention being worried. “I’ll be fine. See you later?”

He nodded and smiled. “Definitely. You’re cooking, right?”

“Yep.” She hadn’t actually planned on it, but seeing as she didn’t have anything better to do today, it was hardly inconvenient. And she was pretty sure they were both tired of carryout.

After JD was gone, Veronica went to the phone and dialed Heather’s number. Though she’d been making excuses to JD to cover her worry about calls that might have come from Dominic, she really hadn’t talked to Heather in while.

The phone rang several times before there was a long, hollow beep. “Hello, you’ve reached Heather Duke. I’m not at my phone right now but please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.”

Without bothering to leave a message, Veronica hung up the phone. A part of her had hoped Heather would be there. Another part of her was glad that she wasn’t, because Veronica wasn’t sure she could lie anymore.

Faced with Heather’s willingness to listen, Veronica almost certainly would have spilled the whole story, and then she would have had to actually deal with everything that had happened since she’d moved here.

Which meant having to deal with living with JD, and the fact that she was getting dangerously used to it.

She dropped her head and let it hit the doorframe, letting out a long breath that pushed her bangs off her forehead.

Nostradamus watched her, his dark yellow eyes fixed and intense.

“You’re kind of creepy,” She said to the cat, who flicked his tail, continuing to stare at her. “Well? Do you have something to say? If you want to fix my problems, I’m all-ears, Nosy.”

Of course Nostradamus didn’t say anything, so Veronica walked away from him, going to search through the cabinets to figure out what she would be cooking. He followed her, passively watching as she moved around the kitchen.

A shiver went down her spine; she didn’t like feeling watched. “What?”

Nostradamus stood next to her to rub against her leg, which was soothing, but it didn’t make the feeling go away.

The feeling that something was wrong persisted as Veronica made a list of things she needed to get from the store. Nostradamus continued to act strange; the normally independent cat followed her from room to room, rubbing her leg and occasionally pawing at her.

“Is something wrong?” Veronica asked quietly, feeling like a stupid character in a Lassie episode.

Nostradamus mewed and pawed at her shoe.

Veronica crossed the room and glanced out the window. The street wasn’t empty, but there was no one suspicious. Still, when she closed the curtains, Veronica made sure there was no gap between them. Something felt wrong, which made her want to hide in the apartment, preferably somewhere dark and quiet with a bottle of vodka, but she forced herself to put on her coat and get ready to go out.

Mewling again, Nostradamus dug his claws into her coat. Veronica nudged him until he let go, but he still followed her frantically to the door.

“I’ll be back soon,” She told him, giving him a final head scratch before she walked out.

It got worse once she was on the street. _You’re paranoid,_ She thought harshly. _No one is watching. You’re fine._

But the prickling on her neck persisted.

Her breathing picked up and her heart raced. Whether or not it was real, she couldn’t escape the oppressive feeling that someone was following her.

Each step reminded her. _You’re not alone. You’re not alone._

Panicking, she ducked into the nearest store and slammed the door behind her.

It was a jewelry store, Veronica noticed that before her harsh breaths became inefficient and her vision started to darken.

The woman behind the counter ran over and started murmuring about something. Veronica gripped her arm. “Is there anyone out there?” She craned her head to look out the glass door, searching for a familiar face, before she had to turn back and focus on breathing.

The woman followed her gaze. “There are lots of people out there, honey. Why? You got someone chasing you?”

Veronica hesitated before nodding.

Clucking, the woman nodded and led Veronica further into the store, settling her on a stool in the corner. “We’ve all been there. You rest here a minute.” She disappeared through the door behind the counter.

Leaning over, Veronica tried to force herself to take deep breaths. A cup of water was forced into her hands, and she drank it gratefully.

After a couple of minutes of drinking and breathing, Veronica finally started to relax.

“You alright?” The woman asked.

Veronica nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Rest here awhile until you’re ready to go.”

“No, thank you. I’m okay.”

The woman eyed her suspiciously, and the whole story trembled on Veronica’s lips, ready for her to spill it to a complete stranger, just so that someone knew. She swallowed hard.

“Thank you for your help. I’m going to go home now.” She fled.

She abandoned her original plan to go to the grocery store, and returned home, moving faster than the crowd and glancing furtively around her the whole time.

By the time she got back to JD’s apartment, she was so exhausted she could barely think. She remembered that fear did that to her. Back when things had been really bad, right after she’d broken up with Dominic and again in Columbus, she’d been constantly tired, frequently spending entire days in fitful sleep.

The living room felt too exposed, with its large windows and open floor. Though she knew it was wrong and invasive, she went into JD’s room. It was darker here; thick curtains covered the windows, and the lock on the door made her feel especially safe.

Nostradamus was napping on the pillow, and Veronica climbed into the bed, curling so the cat was nestled against her back.

She was asleep moments later.

* * *

The state of his face was a source of endless consternation for the couple who were developing the church.

Mr. and Mrs. Carlsbad were generally good people, though JD found them rather stuck up. They were prominent in the Boston real estate scene, and JD was pleased to be working with them.

But they had apparently never worked with an architect that was sporting a spectacular black eye and several smaller facial cuts and bruises. JD could tell that they both wanted to ask what had happened to his face, but neither could abandon the rules of their polite society, so they pretended not to have noticed.

JD found it hilarious.

They walked through the building, and JD noted some of the small changes the Carlsbads wanted him to make, though none of them would have much of an impact on the overall structure.

“We’d really like this to be a unique building. With a space like this there’s just no reason to play it safe,” Mrs. Carlsbad said, after asking JD to adjust a floor plan detail in one of the apartments.

That was different than what JD had expected. Safe was usually where people like the Carlsbads spent all their time. It made him respect them more, seeing that they actually cared about the outcome of the building.

The walk through lasted longer than JD would have liked, taking up most of his day as they discussed changes and details and timelines. Half of JD’s attention was already at home, and he wondered what Veronica was up to. A small smile crossed his face as he thought about the night they had ahead of them, with JD adjusting the plan and Veronica answering letters or watching TV.

“What do you think?” Mr. Carlsbad asked, and JD whipped back to reality, stumbling through an answer to a question he hadn’t completely heard.

When they were finally done, JD led the Carlsbads out of the church, smiling and chatting like he didn’t have anything better to do.

“Son, I have to ask,” Mr. Carlsbad said, “What happened to your face?”

Being called ‘son’ set JD’s teeth on edge, but he kept his smile fixed. “I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

Baffled, the Carlsbads both smiled and walked over to their car.

JD only managed to contain his laugh until they were out of sight.

The weather had kept him off the bike, as the rain made the freezing streets slick, so JD was in a cab, and the driver was blatantly ripping him off, taking him down side streets and around blocks to keep the drive long.

When he got home, JD found the living room empty, and his bedroom door closed. For a second, the irrational thought that Veronica was in there crossed his mind, until he heard her in the kitchen.

She smiled too brightly when she saw him. “Hi, I was about to order pizza, what do you want?”

Though he’d been pretty sure she’d talked about cooking, he didn’t comment on the change of plans. “Just more of whatever you get.”

“Okay!” Everything about her was too bright, like staring at an exposed light bulb that was threatening to explode.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she ordered the pizza and returned to the table, holding a beer.

“Who needs help tonight?” He asked, walking over to stand next to her. He’d learned shortly after she moved in that she hated being approached from behind, so he’d gotten into the habit of sidling up next to her.

Veronica sighed and held up the neatly typed letter.

“Dear Heather,” He read aloud, “My girlfriend recently broke up with me, and I’m shattered. I keep going back to the bar where we met, hoping I might meet someone else like her. I haven’t seen many girls that I want to talk to, but whenever I do, I can’t make myself say anything interesting. How am I supposed to move on like she did if I can’t be with someone else?”

JD looked at Veronica over the top of the letter. “Wow.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot to unpack.”

“What are you going to tell him?” JD like hearing the advice Veronica gave, and had started reading her section of the paper, since she didn’t discuss all her letters with him.

She shrugged. “That he clearly hasn’t moved on, and there are ways to do that without getting with someone else. And if he needs to be with someone else, he should go to new places and meet new people, not just girls he thinks are like his ex. I said it better than that in the letter though.”

Nodding sagely, JD handed the letter back to her. “I’m sure you did.”

“How was the church?”

“Fine. Actually, it was really good. I thought the Carlsbads were going to be uptight about the whole thing, but they’re pushing me to do more unusual stuff with it.”

“That’s nice.” Veronica smiled absently and went back to her letter.

JD sat next to her and started working on the plans, adding the structural details the Carlsbads had mentioned and noting the few places where they might cause issues.

It should have been peaceful, working quietly with Veronica, sharing the space easily, but tension rolled off of her in waves. When she thought he wasn’t looking, she glanced over her shoulders and out the window.

What she was looking for, he couldn’t say, but it was clear that she was scared.

 _What’s going on in your head, Veronica?_ He thought, wishing he could find the courage to speak the words aloud.

She looked up, and JD ducked his head, accidently dragging his pencil in a jagged line across his paper, something that would take lots of careful erasing to correct.

“Did you hear something?”

JD looked up, trying to act like he’d been totally absorbed in his work. “Mhm?”

“I thought I heard someone on the stairs.” She glanced at the door, and JD could see the tension in her jaw and behind her eyes, despite her casual attitude.

Listening carefully, JD also heard footsteps. Years of living here had taught him the sounds of the building. He knew what Mr. Parrish’s heavy, shuffling footsteps sounded like, and the way the floorboards creaked when Mrs. Levitansky made her way to her apartment next door. Mrs. Lachlan wasn’t living in her apartment yet while her apartment was repaired.

This wasn’t any of them. The old building let them know as the stranger got closer to their door. Veronica’s contagious tension seeped through his skin, and he curled his hands into fists. Briefly, his mind jumped to the gun in the drawer, just out of reach, but he knew it wasn’t loaded. He never kept it loaded.

The knock startled them both, and Veronica nearly toppled off her chair. Standing hurriedly, she backed against the wall.

JD answered the door.

The cheerful teen holding the pizza was perhaps the last thing he’d expected to see, though in retrospect he shouldn’t have been. After paying and tipping, JD shut the door.

It crossed his mind that this was a good opening to ask Veronica what was wrong, what had happened that made any unexpected knock on the door so terrifying. But looking at her face as she pretended to laugh it off, he couldn’t make himself do it.

He swiped his plans out of the way and set the pizza on the table. They didn’t bother with plates, instead, they opened the box and both immediately went for the same piece.

Veronica locked eyes with JD; there was a split second of tension as their hands, nearly touching, hovered over the pizza.

When she swatted his hand, JD was so surprised he drew back. Veronica took the piece and laughed, and the coiled energy in the air released.

JD laughed with her, but it faded to silence while they ate. What had happened to their easy conversations? When had it changed?

Around a mouthful of food, Veronica said, “Can you put some music on or something?”

He wondered if she wanted to block out the sounds of the building or the street below, but didn’t question her. He turned on the radio—usually silent and unused in the corner—and flipped the station until he found a station that was playing music.

Veronica relaxed noticeably.

“I should let you answer a letter someday,” Veronica said absently.

JD frowned exaggeratedly. “You need me to do your job for you?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “No, I’d just like to hear what you’d say for some of them.”

“Like your last guy? I don’t think your paper would like how I’d answer that.”

Smiling, she said, “Now you have to tell me what you would have said.”

He rolled his eyes. “I would tell him he needs to stop being such a sad sack of shit about it. And that his girlfriend made the right call when she left him.”

Veronica snorted. “That wouldn’t be published. We’re not allowed to call our readers—who buy the paper so we can get paid—sad sacks of shit.”

“Well he is,” JD said with a shrug.

“And it’s not uplifting. Sasha likes it when Heather is uplifting.”

It was still strange, sometimes, to hear Veronica call her advice-giving alter ego Heather. It made him picture Veronica as the girl she had been, or the girl he’d thought she was before he met her.

_Greetings and salutations, are you a Heather?_

Strangely, ten years later, she kind of was.

The thought sent shivers down his spine, and to distract himself, he stood up, abandoning his food at the table.

Veronica watched him, tilting her head in an expression that mirrored that of Nostradamus, who was also staring.

Amused by their confusion, JD started to dance, watching Veronica’s face collapse into complete bewilderment. Laughing, he reached a hand out towards her in a silent, challenging invitation.

She shook her head. “You’re the worst dancer I’ve ever seen.”

“That can’t be true.” He didn’t stop, and reached over to grab her hand on the table, hauling her to her feet and pulling her into his flailing. They danced together, both a little awkward, laughing too hard to keep any kind of rhythm.

It didn’t take long for one of them—he wasn’t entirely sure which—to trip and begin to fall. JD tried to keep his footing, but he backed into the couch, falling over it. In a rapidly failing attempt to keep Veronica on her feet, he grabbed her waist, but only succeeded in pulling her down with him.

They landed awkwardly, with her halfway on top of him. There was a long beat where they both stared at each other, surprised at the sudden closeness.

Veronica laughed first, and JD joined her, though it didn’t feel as easy as it had moments before.

When it died down, he grabbed the TV remote. “Movie?”

She smiled. “That sounds good.” Standing up, she walked over to the radio and switched it off. On the way, she glanced out the window, and tugged the curtains shut, carefully ensuring there was no longer a gap between them.

When she sat back down, JD noticed that Veronica placed a careful distance between them, and something bitter and uncomfortable settled in his stomach.

 _She’s afraid of you,_ A small voice that lurked somewhere in the dark of his mind whispered. _She wants you to stay away from her._

Whether or not that was true, JD didn’t try to close the space between them, though it was tempting to try to reach for her hand again.

As he lay down in bed a couple hours later, JD swore he could smell the faint, floral scent that always lingered around Veronica. He marveled at the power of wishful thinking as he rolled over, hugging a pillow against his chest.


	12. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you've all been waiting for this, so I won't prolong it with lots of author's notes. Enjoy.

Two days later, Veronica walked down to the lobby with JD. He was leaving for work—there was apparently a building that needed saving—and she had forgotten to pick up her mail yesterday.

“Do you know what the project is?” She asked him as they made their way down the stairs.

JD shrugged. “Not sure, I think it might be a historic hotel of some kind. It’ll be a huge project; the place’ll have to be gutted, but then I can do pretty much whatever I want with a seven story building, so that will be fun.”

“How very,” Veronica said, a phrase that she’d started using again more often since moving in with him. Sometimes being around him made her feel like the last ten years hadn’t happened. Though that hadn’t gone particularly well, much of what had happened to her in the last ten years hadn’t either, so Veronica didn’t hate the idea of forgetting all of it.

The stairway cut through the middle of the building, and Veronica felt safe, surrounded on all sides by walls and closed doors, with JD walking next to her. The lobby was harder; she always had to glance out the glass front door to see what was happening on the street. The mailboxes were right next to the door, and Veronica shuffled from foot to foot, anxious about being visible through the glass.

She rattled the key in the old mailbox lock until it clicked open, and JD waited for her, something she wasn’t sure how to interpret, but she was glad for nonetheless.

“Jesus, you’re popular,” JD said as Veronica pulled out her stack of mail.

“Heather is popular, Veronica corrected absently, noticing an unmarked yellow envelope large enough to hold an unfolded piece of paper. She handed JD the rest of her letters and while he was going through them, she opened it.

She recognized the images immediately, but what they meant dawned on her slowly as horror crept slowly up her spine and into her brain.

“Pictures,” She whispered, staring at the printed images of her face, her back, her and JD dancing in front of the windows, her and JD sitting on the fire escape. Her. JD.

He looked up, and she pressed the pictures against her chest. She knew who they were from. It didn’t cross her mind to suspect anyone else, to think it was a prank. Dominic had found her, somehow, and he was here.

And he knew about JD.

“Are you—“

“I’m fine,” She said. “Shouldn’t you be going?” She took her mail from him, knowing she was being rude, hoping it would make him leave.

He didn’t. “I have a couple minutes, what’s—“

“I said I’m fine,” She repeated, her voice tight. _Please go. Please get away from me before he hurts you. He destroys everything I l—_ she cut the thought off. JD still wasn’t showing any sign of leaving.

“Veronica.” He reached out, stepping closer like he would hug her. God, how she wanted to let him, but she was too conscious of the glass door behind her. Someone could see them.

Dominic could see them.

“Veronica, please, tell me what’s going on.” His eyes were soft, pleading. He looked broken and desperate, an expression she’d seen on him only once before, and never wanted to see again. “I can—“

There was only one way to get him to leave. One way to keep him safe. “No. Go away.”

“Veron—“

“Leave me alone, JD!” Her voice was cold and sharp as daggers. He flinched, and she barely kept herself from recoiling. She knew what she sounded like. She knew what she looked like.

_If you can’t deal with me now, just stay at home and shoot your TV; blow up a couple of toasters or something. Just don’t come to school, and don’t mess with me._

The expression vanished from JD’s face. It was like watching a screen fall over his eyes. He stepped back, nodding. “Okay.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the lobby, holding her mail and feeling like she’d been shot.

With nothing else to do, she returned to his apartment to pace and stare at the pictures, worrying.

Dominic knew where she was. He knew where she lived, and had been following her for at least a couple days. A part of her wished he’d left a note, wished the pictures had his name, in his clear, block print, but she didn’t need it. But Dominic knew he didn’t have to sign his work.

He was right. Veronica put the photos back in their envelope and shoved them under her pillow. Then she removed a bottle of vodka from under JD’s couch.

She wasn’t proud that she’d stored it there, but sleep had been elusive, and she needed something to dull the sharp edge of fear. She needed it now more than ever.

Vodka slid down her throat, burning as it went, yet she swallowed it like water, hardly even coughing. How much would she have to drink to forget what was coming?

 _You should leave,_ a sinister voice whispered in the back of her mind. _Run away, no one will ever find you. It’s the only way to stay alive._

It was also the only way to be sure that JD was safe. Being near her wasn’t safe.

“I need to go,” She whispered, even as she swayed and fell back onto the couch. “I have to leave.” She took another long drink as the corners of the world became fuzzy, and spinny.

The last thing she saw was Nostradamus, sitting upright in front of her, staring out. It reminded her, faintly, in the back of her alcohol-soaked brain, of the cats that guarded Egyptian tombs. “Good tomb cat,” She said, clumsily reaching out to pet him as she sprawled out onto the couch and lost consciousness.

* * *

“You okay? You seem distracted?”

JD looked up into Colin’s curious eyes, nodding before he had fully registered the question. “Um, yeah. I’m good.”

“Everything okay with Veronica?” Eric asked.

“Are you still pretending you aren’t together?” Mike butted in.

JD glared at him. “We aren’t together.” _We just live together, and sometimes we dance. But that’s normal roommate stuff, right?_

“Sure,” Colin said, rolling his eyes. “Has anyone told you that you’re obviously in love with her?”

The word love caught JD off guard, but he refused to let it show. He refused to even think about what Colin had said. “Are we going to talk about work, or what?”

“We’ve been talking about work,” Mike said, “For hours. Pretty soon it’ll be dark enough for us to go check out the inside of the building.”

“Then let’s go back over what to expect. I can’t design the interior of a whole building in one night. It’ll be easier if I’ve already got some ideas.”

“We can refurbish it and turn it back into a hotel,” Colin suggested, allowing the change of topic.

JD shook his head. “If the damage is as bad as Eric said, we’ll need to gut it. At that point we may as well do something different.”

“Not to mention,” Eric added, “There are no nearby tourist locations or conference centers; it’s not a good location for a hotel.”

“Apartments then,” Colin said. “Those are easy.”

He wouldn’t have admitted it, but JD was bored of apartments. “What about a homeless shelter? You said it wasn’t a great location for tourists, what kind of neighborhood does that make it?”

“Not a great one, to be honest. It’s mostly low-rent apartment buildings. Crime rate isn’t crazy though.” Eric knew the streets of Boston inside and out, and could have listed statistics for just about any neighborhood in the city.

“How the hell am I supposed to sell a homeless shelter?” Colin’s question was a logical one, but it still made JD bristle.

“That’s your damn job,” He snapped, before pulling his temper back under control. “Just find some rich people and tell them it’s a philanthropy project.” The idea took shape as JD was speaking, and he found himself liking it.

“And how do we get paid if this is a charity case?” Mike asked, the hints of his Boston accent coming out as his temper rose.

JD shrugged. “Maybe we don’t need to get paid this time, Mikey.”

That started an argument that ended when Mike stormed out of the office. No one followed him.

Glancing out the window, JD saw that the sun had set, and the city was rapidly growing darker. “It’s time.”

Eric left him with Colin, and it was just the two of them for the illegal activity. It went by pretty fast. There was enough work to do, searching through the rotting building for any distinctive features he might want to try to salvage. Finding none, he just took more measurements and waved to Colin. “We should get out of here, I’m not sure it’s safe to breathe.”

Nodding, Colin followed him out. “Hey, Dean, I think it’s a good idea, the homeless shelter thing. If you can come up with a good plan, I’ll pitch it to some people I know.”

JD smiled. “Thanks.”

“But make a backup.” Of course Colin couldn’t be nice without adding an insult.

Still, JD’s smile didn’t falter. He liked the plan so much it was almost enough to distract him from returning to his apartment and Veronica.

Veronica.

The image of her standing in that lobby, glaring at him, was burned into his mind. The fear and anger on her face had been too familiar, and seeing her looking at him like that again had felt like being shot. Again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You seem out of it.” Genuine concern was not an affect Colin wore very often, and JD was grateful for it now.

“I’m okay. Veronica and I are fighting, that’s all.” It was the simplest way to explain the strangeness between them, though it wasn’t really true.

“I hope you get things worked out,” Colin said. Then he climbed into a taxi and was gone, leaving JD alone.

He hadn’t wanted to leave Veronica in the lobby, but what could he have done? The look on her face as she’d told him to leave had haunted him, hovering behind his eyelids every time he closed them.

Furious and fearful, he’d seen that look before. Was she scared of him this time too?

That thought hurt, not that he would blame her if it were true. He’d more than earned her hatred and fear, but it still made something deep inside him ache.

It didn’t make sense for her to have been holding his hand and relaxing into him just days ago, and suddenly decide that she was terrified of him. But what other explanation made sense? Had he done something? He couldn’t come up with anything he’d done that would have changed her behavior like that.

His thoughts continued to spin in unproductive circles as he hailed a cab and made his way home.

The apartment was dark when he got back, and the first thing he saw was Nostradamus sitting, guardian-like, in front of Veronica’s couch.

The next thing he noticed was the nearly empty bottle of vodka on the floor next to Veronica’s overhanging hand.

The first thought that struck him was that she looked like Juliet, dead with a bottle of poison next to her. The next thought was a pretentious reminder that Juliet had stabbed herself, and Romeo had been the one to drink poison.

Romeo and Heather Chandler.

He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away as he slowly approached Veronica. Nostradamus watched him, not moving aside from his tail, slowly flicking back and forth.

 _She’s fine,_ He thought, trying hard to believe it. He pressed two fingers against the side of her throat, relieved to feel the steady beat of her pulse. She was sleeping, not dead.

Since his hand was there, he brushed his thumb over her pale cheek, allowing himself one second of wistfulness before he pulled his hand away.

He walked away from Veronica, leaving Nostradamus to his vigil, and noticed for the first time that there was a knocking sound coming from upstairs, distant enough that JD could barely hear it.

He could also hear the shuffling footsteps he’d come to associate with his neighbor, Mrs. Levitansky.

The knock on his door wasn’t unexpected, if Mrs. Levitansky was up this late, it was because she needed something. He answered, standing carefully to block any view the nosy old woman might have had of the couch.

“Oh thank goodness you’re home,” She said. “There’s someone upstairs. They’ve been knocking on that new girl’s door for hours.”

Veronica’s door. Hiding all the thoughts that raced through his head, he nodded to Mrs. Levitansky. “I’ll take care of it, just go back to your apartment.”

“Oh, bless you,” She murmured, the faint hint of her Polish accent bleeding into her voice. She shuffled away with the air of a woman satisfied that someone else would deal with a problem.

JD shut the door. This could be the person Veronica searched over her shoulder for. Dread settled in his stomach. It could be a lot of things, or people. Taking a long, deep breath, he crossed the room and opened the drawer with the gun.

It gleamed slightly in the light from the street lamps outside. JD’s hand hovered over it, unsure.

 _What are your options, JD?_ Cab’s voice in his head stopped him before he could close his fist around the handle.

He didn’t have to take the gun. He could face this with his wits and his fists, and the sure knowledge that one of his neighbors would call the police if something happened.

The drawer closed with a click and he turned his back on it. Sending one last glance over his shoulder at Veronica’s sleeping form, he left the apartment.

He climbed the stairs slowly, careful to keep his footsteps quiet on the creaky stairs. When he rounded the corner and saw Veronica’s door. He stopped short.

Someone was knocking on the door with posture that indicated a wide variety of emotions, ranging from exhaustion to anger to quiet resignation.

“Heather?” He couldn’t stop himself from saying the name, he was so shocked to recognize her.

She turned, glaring at him. “Have we met?”

JD stared at her, and he realized that Veronica hadn’t told Heather that she was living with JD. She probably hadn’t told Heather about JD at all, something that hurt, but for which JD could hardly blame her.

“Holy shit,” Heather said, stepping closer. “You’re that weird kid that went to our school for like three days.”

“I was there for weeks,” JD corrected weakly. The whole situation could only be more surreal if he had come running up here waving a gun.

Heather was still studying him. “You hurt Veronica.”

JD put his hands up; her glare was strong enough that he thought it might burn him. “It was a long time ago, Heather.”

“It was.”

There was a long, steady pause as they studied each other.

“I’m JD,” He reminded her.

“Where’s Veronica? I’ve been pounding on her door for hours, and I called her a hundred times this week; she should be here.”

“She’s passed out on my couch,” JD said.

“Why?” Heather’s voice was suspicious.

Realizing this had to be a careful answer, JD took a second to think about his words. “She’s living with me right now, while her apartment is getting fixed after the fire.”

“Fire?” She was obviously alarmed.

JD stepped closer to her, placating. “She’s fine. It was an accident. Her neighbor left a heater on.”

“It wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t what?” JD asked eagerly. He could see that Heather was scared too. She knew something.

“She hasn’t told you?” Heather’s jaw dropped. “She’s living with you, but you don’t know about…”

“About what?” His heart rate had picked up as if sensing the urgency. He leaned in towards Heather as if he might miss something she said.

Heather stared at him for a long second. “She trusts you?” She asked quietly, her eyes softening.

JD thought through his relationship with Veronica, whatever it was. He settled on the memory of her leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Yes.”

Abruptly, Heather crossed the hallway and grabbed JD by the sleeve. “Come on.”

Too surprised to do anything but comply, JD followed her. “What?”

“You’re buying me a beer.”

He took her to O’Doherty’s. This late at night, the place was practically empty, except for the couple of people who were always there when JD came. He didn’t look too closely at them. Instead he led Heather to a quiet booth in the back, waving at Red for a couple beers.

They sat in silence while they waited. It felt surreal to be sitting in a bar with Heather Duke who, despite darker hair and ten years of time, looked exactly the same.

“You need anything else?” Red asked.

JD shook his head. “Thanks.”

Heather picked up her beer and downed it rapidly. “Okay. Let’s talk. How much do you know about Dominic?”

“I… Nothing. Who’s Dominic?”

“She didn’t tell you anything? She didn’t mention him once?”

He shook his head.

“Dominic is Veronica’s ex. He’s… God I don’t know where to start.” Shaking her head, Heather reached for JD’s beer and took a long sip.

JD waved to Red for another round before returning his attention to Heather. “Start at the beginning.”

“It started five years ago, not long after we graduated. Veronica and I had broken up—shit, she told you we dated, right?”

“She told me.”

Heather breathed a fast sigh of relief. “Okay. We’d been broken up for about a year when she met Dominic. I wish I could say that I didn’t like him from the start, but I didn’t notice anything wrong with him. Not when I first met him, at least.”

She looked down, staring into her beer, though JD doubted she was seeing it.

“He was Veronica’s type; good looking and smart, and there was something… intense about him. I should have known. We both should have known.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” JD said hollowly, starting to see where this was going.

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s not like I can blame Veronica, though I’m really starting to doubt whoever told her she was a genius.” Heather’s voice was bitter and she glanced critically at JD. “She always had the worst taste in men.”

He bit back the urge to tell her she clearly didn’t have the best taste in women either.

“She started to pull away from her friends, especially me. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I figured maybe she didn’t want to hang out with her ex, or maybe she didn’t like my girlfriend at the time, who was kind of annoying. I didn’t think much of it until Betty Finn called me. We were never friends, so it was strange that she would call. She said she was worried about Veronica.”

“Why?” JD asked, which earned him a glare from Heather.

“This story is hard enough; don’t interrupt.”

He nodded, and Heather took a deep breath before continuing.

“She was pulling away from everyone. Betty was taking it hard because Veronica had done this to her before, when we were all in high school. She asked me to check on her. I thought it was dumb, but I did.”

“She was fine,” Heather continued after a pause. “She seemed mostly normal, a little tense, maybe, but I thought it was just stress from work and her book. Later on, I called Betty back to let her know what had happened, and she told me she wasn’t speaking to Veronica anymore. I didn’t find out until later that Dominic had asked her to cut ties with Betty. As far as I know, they never worked it out.”

“Veronica hasn’t mentioned Betty,” JD noted.

“Has she mentioned me?” Heather looked hopeful, or maybe wistful, JD couldn’t quite tell.

“Yeah, she talks about you a lot.”

A soft smile crossed Heather’s face. “I think about her a lot.” She took a breath and collected herself. “Anyway, Veronica’s friends fell away one by one after that. I think in some cases Dominic told her to do it, convinced her that they weren’t good enough or something. In other cases… I’ll explain that later.”

Frustration gripped JD, but he forced himself to breathe through it. Heather would tell him what he needed to know at her own pace.

“I started to notice that she wasn’t doing well. She was pale and jumpy, and drinking way too much. Whenever I tried to talk to her about it, she waved it off, and I was going through a breakup so I had a lot on my mind. I should have done more, but I figured, it’s Veronica; she’s tough. She’ll be okay.”

They both knew that Veronica wasn’t okay.

“Veronica cut me off too. She’s… Veronica’s very good at cutting ties when she wants to be. I thought she needed help, and that something was up but… I’ve never been strong, JD. You knew that. She was being cruel and avoiding me and she made herself very hard to love. I should have done more, but I didn’t.”

“She broke up with him after they were together nearly three years. I don’t know what sent her over the edge, I just know that one night she showed up at my house and she was bleeding. We hadn’t spoken for months.”

“Jesus Christ,” JD breathed.

“I didn’t want to ask too much; she was so shaken. But she told me that he’d been hurting her for a while, and that she stayed because she thought he was getting better. Apparently he turned a corner that night and she ran. She left in a hurry though, all her stuff was in their apartment. They were living together, that’s why I was so surprised she moved in with you. Since Dominic, she’s been very protective of her space; she wouldn’t even live with me.”

“She’s… We’re not living together like that. She’s just staying with me for a while.”

Heather sat back, staring at him. “You aren’t together?”

JD shook his head. “We’re just friends. She happened to move into my building and we… reconnected, I guess.” He didn’t think they’d really connected before, but that wasn’t something he was going to tell Heather.

“Friends.” Heather nodded. “She could use some of those.”

“Heather, please just tell me what happened. Tell me everything,” JD said, suddenly unable to bear another second of waiting.

“She broke into her own house, took what she could, and moved to a hotel room. She planned on getting another apartment and moving on with her life.”

“She wasn’t working at the time; she’d quit because he could support them and she wanted to work on her book. Suddenly she had to find a place to live and a job. I know she was stressed about that, but neither of use was that worried about Dominic. I think we both thought he would just move on, I mean, he wasn’t bad looking, he had money. He could have found someone else.”

“But he didn’t?”

“We wouldn’t be here if he had. He found her somehow and started sending her pictures of herself. He got her number and called her all the time. It was just constant. She never felt safe, no matter how many times she moved. Eventually I realized he was following me. I was Veronica’s closest friend in the city, and he’d always hated me; I think he was jealous because I was her ex. He probably guessed that even after what had happened, she would still reach out to me. That’s when Veronica moved to Columbus. Her editor helped her get a job with the Dispatch and we thought it would finally be over.”

“Why didn’t she tell the police?” There were dozens of parts of the story that confused him, but that stood out. Surely someone could help her?

“She tried, but he wasn’t actually doing anything illegal. The calls and the pictures weren’t threats; he never left messages.”

“So they told her to ignore it and it would go away?” JD felt rage curl in a tight ball in his stomach. He finished his beer and glanced at Heather’s empty glass. “Want another?”

She nodded. Though this was becoming quite a tab, he waved at Red again. He had to hear this story, whatever the cost.

“Veronica moved to Columbus. She thought being closer to home would be safer, but it didn’t work out. She couldn’t work because she was constantly looking over her shoulder and terrified. She stayed in hotels, moving around constantly. He still found her.”

“How?” JD asked, lost.

“He followed me,” Heather said, ducking her head to hide her shame, though JD saw it anyway. “I went to visit her a couple weeks after she moved, and he followed me there.”

There was a long silence. JD didn’t know what to say and Heather didn’t seem able to continue.

“He made her life hell there for a while, the same stuff mostly. The police in Columbus were just as unhelpful, so she was dealing with it on her own. It was my fault he found her, so I stopped visiting. I only came here because she’s been here for months, and I’m on business so I didn’t think it would be suspicious. Quinn even came along so it looks like a normal trip.”

“You didn’t lead him here,” JD said. “I think he’s been here for a while.” He gestured vaguely at his face, remembering Veronica’s panicked reaction; he realized now that she’d thought he’d been attacked because of her.

“But how did he find her? Things were going so well for her here, and she’s so far away from Chicago and Sherwood. She should have been safe!” Heather’s voice got louder in her desperate frustration, drawing attention from one of the half-conscious men at the bar.

JD glared at him until he looked away, then turned to heather and said in a lower voice, “I think he followed her home; she visited her parents for the holidays.” Something she may have done just to get away from him. JD’s stomach twisted with guilt.

“Oh.” Heather sat quietly, sipping her beer. “God, she was finally getting to live her life. She didn’t call me very often, but I swear I could tell things were getting better for her. She was still scared sometimes, but I honestly thought it was just leftover fear. I thought she was safe.”

“I had no idea,” JD admitted. “I could tell something had scared her, but half the time I thought it was me, and the rest of the time I assumed it was none of my business.”

“It wasn’t you.” Heather said, and JD was struck by the kind gesture. She took a breath and continued. “I want you to know, in case there’s any confusion, that I still hate you for what you did to Veronica when we were kids. She was fucked up for a long time.”

JD sighed. _So much for the nice gesture._ Not that he deserved any of Heather’s kindness. He didn’t try to defend his past self. He’d been fucked up too, but deserved to be fucked up. Veronica had hardly been a good person back then, she didn’t deserve what he’d done to her.

She didn’t deserve what this bastard had done to her either.

For a second, he wondered if he could really sit here, outraged at this stranger who’d hurt Veronica when he knew he’d hurt her too. But it didn’t matter whether or not he could; he was. “If I could, I would—“

“What?” Heather said dryly, “Kill him and make it look like a suicide?”

JD choked on his beer.

Heather’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. I’m right.” She paused for a second, studying JD, who was still trying to catch his breath. “You’re so obvious, how the hell did you get away with three murders for ten years? It was three right?”

“Heather was more… accidental manslaughter,” JD said, stretching the truth slightly. He had known it was drain cleaner, but he hadn’t thought it would kill her instantly like that.

“Kurt and Ram?” Heather asked. JD just nodded. “Good.”

“Not really,” JD said, thinking of how dangerously close he’d gotten to killing Heather herself, and the entire student body. He’d been walking a ledge back then, and though he knew he’d backed away from it in the years since, he could still see the cliff.

“They had it coming,” Heather said with a shrug, taking another sip of beer. “They would have only gotten worse.”

JD didn’t entirely disagree, though he doubted Cab would approve of such thoughts.

They sat in silence, the conversation having hit a—literal— dead end. They sipped their drinks, occasionally stealing glances at each other as though neither could believe they were sitting with the other.

“It’s really late,” JD noted after some time had passed.

Heather nodded. “I should be getting back. Quinn will be worried.”

“Who’s Quinn?” JD asked.

She beamed. “My girlfriend.” Heather pulled out her purse to show him a picture of her standing next to a tall woman with an angular face and short, dark hair. “We’ve been together for two and a half years. She works in the legal depart at my company.”

“She’s lovely.” JD smiled.

“She is.” Heather sighed. “I was hoping Veronica would get to see her, but we have to leave tomorrow after my meetings are done.”

JD glanced at Heather’s expensive looking watch. “Veronica might be awake by the time we get back.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m going to go. Just… tell her I said hello.”

“I will.” JD stood and they walked out of the bar together. Before she climbed into her cab, JD stopped her. “Heather… thank you for telling me.”

Heather nodded and looked him in the eye. “Just make sure you do something about it.”

“I will.” With that, she drove away, and JD turned towards his building, beginning the long walk to his apartment.

He and Veronica had a lot to talk about.


	13. Fucked Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains mature themes. The fic is obviously rated mature, so hopefully you wouldn't be here if that bothers you, but just in case it does, now's your chance to stop reading. Thank you and enjoy!

Veronica slept late. Very late. Steady rain beat against the window, keeping her in the foggy daze left over from sleeping for so long. She’d woken up a couple times the day before—even vodka couldn’t stop nightmares—but every time she’d drank more, until she was asleep again.

Now, her head was pounding, her throat was dry, and she felt somehow simultaneously hungry and far too nauseas to eat.

When she rolled over, her foot bumped against something on the end of the couch that she was positive hadn’t been there when she’d fallen asleep.

The realization that it was a person startled her so much she nearly screamed, but she bit it back, heart pounding, when her brain finally processed the information that told her it was JD.

JD was asleep, upright against her couch, with Nostradamus in his lap.

Nothing else in the world could have brought a smile to her face while she was in the middle of the mother of all hangovers, but she found herself looking affectionately at the both of them as she stood carefully, to avoid jostling them.

Her shower took longer than it should have because she got dizzy halfway through and had to sit down. When she was finished, she walked out; surprised to find that JD was still asleep, though Nostradamus was awake and expecting breakfast.

Veronica fed him before he could start yowling, glancing back at JD. He still showed no signs of stirring, and Veronica’s heart skipped a beat.

What if… she stepped closer and made out the steady rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing.

Her thoughts flicked back to the pictures, still hidden under her pillow on the couch. She’d put JD in danger.

It occurred to her that she could leave now. JD was so deeply asleep Veronica was pretty sure she could rearrange the furniture and he wouldn’t wake up. If she packed her few things and left, he wouldn’t know until he woke up.

Running was how she’d always dealt with this before. Running was easy.

But running would lead to the same crushing, hollow loneliness that she’d felt when she’d arrived in Boston.

Glancing at JD’s face, younger and softer in sleep, her stomach twisted. She didn’t want to run. She didn’t want to be alone.

She didn’t want to leave him.

Shoving that thought as far away as she could, she started to pace. Her options were clear: stay or go, and she knew it would be best to go.

Dragging JD into this was unfair, but it would be impossible to keep him out of it. Yelling at him, pretending it was his fault, _hurting_ him, would only last so long before he saw through it and demanded to know what was actually happening.

He wouldn’t give up until she told him something he could believe, and she didn’t have the strength to lie to him.

Leaving was the right thing to do.

Saving him was the right thing to do.

 _You already saved his life once,_ A selfish little voice hissed at her. _You don’t need to do it twice._

Veronica knew better than that, though. She knew she hadn’t saved him back then. She couldn’t have cared less if he’d died; she would have watched him go. He had saved himself, and she’d given him an apathetic ride to the hospital.

Glancing at the window, Veronica made sure the curtains were closed. No one could see her.

Taking a deep breath, she looked to see if JD was still definitely asleep, before she went back to her couch and pulled out the pictures.

She stared at the image of her and JD dancing. She was smiling, and JD’s face was twisted into a comically serious face that she knew was seconds from cracking into a smile.

The thought that Dominic had taken this without her knowledge so he could threaten her was terrifying, but if all she thought about was the people in the picture, she liked what she saw.

She liked that she looked relaxed, comfortable, happy even. Those were things she’d thought she’d never have again.

Guilt tore at her stomach. She couldn’t have those things again, not while Dominic was out there.

Not if the person who made her feel that way was in danger just because he was close to her.

She was still puzzling through it when JD moved for the first time. He shifted, stretching his back and squinting his eyes open.

Veronica shoved the pictures back under her pillow and tried to smile. “Good morning. Well, actually it’s afternoon now.”

JD nodded. “Coffee?” He asked, his voice sleep-roughened.

“Oh. No. I didn’t make any. Hang on, I’ll—“

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her. “Veronica.”

She stared, waiting for him to say more, but eventually he just let go and looked away. She couldn’t have begun to guess what he was thinking.

Once the coffee pot was on, she returned to the living room, wondering if whatever unnamed tension she’d felt before would dissipate.

It didn’t.

“It’s raining,” He said. He was standing in front of the window, looking out at the street.

Veronica nodded. Swallowing hard and fighting the urge to run forward and pull him away from the window, she said, “Yeah.”

Silence fell and so did the rain, pattering against the windows to highlight the fact that they weren’t talking.

“What happened yesterday?” JD whispered.

She remembered trying to push him away, hoping she could make him hate her enough to save him, but her heart hadn’t been in it. Even as scared as she was, she didn’t want to hurt him.

At that moment, she realized she never would have run away. Her stomach clenched, twisting into a painful knot; she knew what that meant.

“Nothing happened.” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears.

JD just sighed.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the day. It was awkward, sharing the space and moving around each other. Veronica pretended she was okay, even though she tossed glances over her shoulder at the window far too frequently to pass as normal.

JD seemed to be pretending too, but Veronica didn’t know what he had to lie about.

Maybe that was the point.

It got dark outside, and Veronica checked the curtains for the thousandth time before she went to the bathroom. It was the only way to get out of the room, and god she needed an escape.

When she came back, JD was holding the envelope, staring at the pictures. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Cold ran down her spine. “What are you… Give those back!” She crossed the room and snatched them from his hands, knowing that it was too late for him to unsee.

“Those are just—“ A dozen pathetic, implausible lies raced into her head, none of them remotely helpful.

“I talked to Heather. She told me everything.”

“Heather?” For a long, stupid second, Veronica thought he was talking about Heather Chandler, before her logic eventually caught up and she realized it was Heather Duke. He’d talked to Heather.

She’d told him everything. “What.”

“Last night, when I got home, Heather was pounding on your door. She’d called you a hundred times to tell you that she was coming to town, but you never answered because you’ve been living here, which you never told her. She realized what was going on and told me what happened to you. She told me about—“

“Don’t,” Veronica snapped. “Don’t say his name.”

JD put his hands up. “I won’t. Just… why didn’t you tell me? Veronica, I would have—“

“What? What would you do, JD?” Did he really think he could protect her? It was almost laughable.

“I don’t know,” JD snapped, standing to pace. “I don’t know what I would have done, but you could have told me. You didn’t have to…” He trailed off.

Veronica’s lips curled, pain and anger mixing together until she couldn’t separate them anymore. “I don’t need your help.”

“Of course not. There’s a crazy person following you around, taking your picture—mine too, by the way—but obviously you have it under control.” Sarcasm leaked into his tone, and Veronica winced a little.

“Do you think you’re the first person to try to help me? Heather tried, and it just made things worse. My parents have tried, same thing. No one can help me, JD.”

“You could go to the police—“

She interrupted him again. “Wow, I can’t believe I never thought of that after he’s been following me for years! I tried that JD; I tried everything. The police can’t help unless they’re sure he’s actually planning to hurt me. Besides, I don’t want them digging into my past. Our past.”

She knew when she said it that it was a bad excuse, a manipulative excuse. Somehow, she’d found a way to make him feel responsible for her not going to the police. Guilt tore at her, but she was already in this, and there was no getting out.

JD looked away. “What can I do? There has to be something. I can’t know all this and just—“

“Well I didn’t want you to know any of it!” Veronica bit off her words and turned away. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“There has to be.” He approached her slowly and reached up one hand, like he might try to comfort her.

Before she could find out whether or not that would make her flinch, he stopped and dropped his hand. “Please let me help.”

“Let’s kill him.”

The words fell between them, catching them both off guard. It took Veronica a long moment to realize that she’d meant it.

She wanted to kill Dominic. It wasn’t like Heather Chandler, whom she’d wanted out of her life, or like Kurt and Ram, who she had wanted to die. She wanted to be the one to kill Dominic. She wanted to know for sure that he was never coming back.

“Not that, Veronica,” JD whispered. “Please. Not that.”

“Oh, now that it’s not your idea, it isn’t okay?” Veronica snapped. The idea of living in a world without Dominic had stuck inside her head, and she couldn’t let it go. All of her problems would be solved if he were to simply disappear.

“That’s not what I meant. I mean… there are other ways. We can find—“

“Find what? Somewhere he won’t be able to follow me? I tried that; it lasted a few months, but here we are. Find another way? What is there that you think I haven’t already tried? I want him dead.”

“But we,” JD’s voice was getting louder, and it occurred to her that though they’d argued once or twice since she’d moved in, this was the first time he’d yelled. “We don’t have to kill him.”

“I can’t believe this.” Veronica threw up her hands and walked away from him, before her anger got the better of her and she turned back. “I can’t believe you’re trying to take the moral high ground. You!”

JD flinched like she’d hit him, and Veronica’s stomach twisted.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” His voice was barely audible. “Don’t you see, Veronica? I’ve been where you are. I chose wrong, and hundreds of people might have died if it hadn’t been for you. I’m trying to repay the favor.”

“If you insist on acting like you owe me something, then help me with this,” She pleaded.

Again, he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m trying to.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

There was a long pause where no one said anything.

Veronica broke first. “You know we could do this.”

“I can’t,” JD answered. “And I don’t think you could either. I think you want to, but don’t think you could go through with it.”

“Of course I can!” Veronica knew she sounded hysterical, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I have before!”

“You didn’t want to!”

“See, I distinctly remember you telling me that I did,” Veronica snapped, knowing that he’d actually been mostly right.

“Veronica, please.” He stepped forward; almost close enough to touch her.

He was being nice. It had been easier when he was yelling to keep barreling down this insane path, but now that he was trying to be kind, she wanted to break down. She wanted to let him hold her and talk her out of this so she could fall asleep in his arms and feel safe.

“Veronica, this isn’t you.”

Biting hard on her cheek, Veronica chose to let him be safe, rather than taking some desperately needed solace.

She rounded on him, drawing the biggest weapons she could think of. “No. This isn’t the me you think I am, or the me you want me to be. You want to go back to when we were teenagers and when I was—“

“That isn’t true!”

“—When I was young and stupid. Well, that girl is dead!” Veronica was panting, her breath coming in painful half-sobs and her voice breaking.

He was hurt. Wounded green eyes searched her face as he searched for something to say.

Veronica couldn’t bear his hand reaching out for her, trying to call her back from the edge of the abyss. She turned and fled the apartment, plunging into the rainy darkness.

* * *

JD paced.

He knew he should follow her. It was freezing, raining, and dark out. Not to mention the fact that Dominic might be waiting outside for her.

The last thing she needed was two men chasing her. Besides, she seemed like she wanted to take care of herself.

Nostradamus tilted his head and watched him. JD got the distinct impression he was being judged, and falling far short of his cat’s standards.

“Well what do you want me to do, Nosy? Help her kill him? You know I can’t do that.”

Yellow eyes watched him in silence.

JD started to pace.

_What are your options, JD?_

He could ignore this. Accept that Veronica would choose murder over him and try to make peace with that. This option settled uncomfortably in his stomach, so he brushed past it.

He could go after her. It was a risk; Dominic could be out there and JD had no way of knowing he would find Veronica first. But even if he did catch up to her, what would he say? Could he agree to help her on her mission?

That idea was no more comfortable than letting her go.

“What do I do, Nosy?” He crouched down to scratch his cat, but Nostradamus flicked his tail and walked away, uninterested.

It hurt more than JD would have liked to admit. “Fine. You leave to.”

Minutes ticked by. JD never wore watches, and he didn’t have a clock in the living room, but he could almost hear the seconds going past, reminding him what had happened.

_She’s. Gone. She’s. Gone. She’s. Gone._

He paced, stopping when he saw the photo Veronica had taken from his hands. The two of them, dancing in front of his window, both laughing and looking a bit stupid. He smiled, tracing his finger over her face.

“There’s going to be another option,” He insisted, grabbing his jacket off the table, heedlessly tossing plans and papers onto the floor as he did so. He let the picture fall with them.

He had to go after her. He’d figure out something to say when he found her.

Taking a deep breath, he headed for the door, pulling it open far harder than necessary, ready to run the streets until he found Veronica and brought her home safely.

She was standing on the other side of the door.

He’d been so caught up in imagining her cowering in an alley—which seemed ridiculous now that he thought about it—that the sight of her, shivering and sodden in the hallway took him a moment to process.

“Veron—“

She cut him off with a kiss.

It felt like a dream, so he didn’t question it. His hands moved up to cup her face. Her skin was freezing and soaked under his fingertips, but her lips were warm.

He pulled her into the apartment so he could shut the door and press her against it. If this was all going to end in a minute, he was going to savor it as much as he could.

Veronica’s hands were in his hair, pushing his jacket off, trembling and freezing against his neck.

JD pulled back for a second, resting his forehead on hers. “Are you okay?”

She barely nodded and went back to kissing him.

The impression that he was getting played crept up on him slowly, working its way through the fog in his brain. He would have rather kept the fog and kept holding her, but the insistence that this wasn’t right pulled him away again.

“Veronica, we should talk about this,” He whispered, forcing himself to take a step back.

The light vanished from her eyes in an instant. “I just…” She trailed off, shrugging and trying to step around him.

“Hey,” He whispered, keeping an easily breakable grip on her shoulder. “If you were just trying to distract me, it was working, but we should really—“

“I’m not about to go on a murderous rampage, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Her face was still closed off, but the fact that she kept shivering made her tone less harsh.

Since she hadn’t pulled away from him, he brushed a damp strand of hair out of her face. “I’m not worried,” He said honestly; he had stopped worrying the second he’d seen her in his doorway. “I’m making sure you’re alright.”

Veronica dropped her head, flinching away from him. “Why are you doing this?”

He let her go, immediately missing the contact. “What?”

“Being nice?”

It was like being kicked in the gut. “Veronica…” How could he explain it to her? How could he tell her?

“You don’t owe me anything. I meant what I said, and the truth is, I would have let you die that day, so you should just—“

He kissed her. Words would have been better, but he doubted either of them wanted to hear those words right now.

When he pulled back, he kept his arms around her. “I know. This isn’t about what happened; it’s never been about what happened. I forgot about the girl you were a long time ago. I want who you are now.”

Veronica was silent for a long moment. She kept her head against his chest, finally tilting it just enough to press her lips against his neck. “I want you too.”

She was still shaking and soaked with rain, but she didn’t complain about the cold. She started a slow exploration of the accessible skin above his sweater, and he traced his fingers around the hem of her shirt.

He was mildly worried she would freeze if she kept it on much longer, and seeing as her hands were currently resting on his ass, he was fairly certain she wouldn’t mind if he removed it, an assumption that turned out to be correct.

Sighing, she pulled his sweater off and they staggered backwards into the couch, laughing when a startled and disgruntled Nostradamus leapt off of it.

“Maybe we should go to your room?” Veronica suggested. He couldn’t tell if her flush was from recent activities or somehow the unflappable Veronica was actually embarrassed.

He kissed her again; still not really believing this was real. “I’m not arguing.”

They held hands and walked to his room, leaving their shirts on the floor.

Standing in his room, the awkwardness returned, and neither of them moved. He was staring at her, partially naked and stunning, trying to accept that this was happening.

She was staring at him too, and it took him too long to realize what she was looking at. Slowly, she reached forward and touched the scar on his chest where she’d shot him, then yanked her hand back as if it had burned her.

Veronica swallowed hard. “Does it… hurt?”

He shook his head and reached out to hold her hand again “Not anymore. Not for a long time.” He pressed her palm against his scar, and he could feel the rough mark on her palm, exactly the size and shape of a car cigarette lighter.

They stood frozen, staring at their hands for a long moment, until she stepped forward and kissed him.

He twisted his hands in her hair, holding her close. It was like coming home, or breathing for the first time after spending too long under water. This moment was an inevitability, finally coming to pass.

She removed his pants and her own, barely breaking the kiss to do so. He continued to savor her, still expecting to wake up at any moment.

The light was off, something he regretted, as he would have liked to see her clearly, rather than in the dim snatches of light from the streetlight, but they were too far now to stop.

Her hands were on his chest, his neck, trailing down his back. His slid down to touch her hips and the curve of her ass. “God you’re beautiful.”

She laughed breathlessly and kissed his throat, humming softly.

He wanted to move this forward, towards where they both knew it was going, but he forced himself to slow down, to breathe through his pounding heart and scattered thoughts.

Veronica didn’t acknowledge his momentary hesitation. She pushed him back onto the bed, still smiling as she climbed on top of him and sprawled over his chest.

They slowed for a moment, kissing lazily and dragging gentle, exploratory hands over bare skin and what little fabric remained. A silent, mutual agreement was reached, and they removed what was left, leaving them bare.

JD pulled the blanket over them, aware that Veronica was still shivering slightly.

Comfortable, she stretched against him, and a soft gasp escaped his lips.

Grinning, she did it again, this time, slowly and with intention.

“Jesus, Veronica,” He murmured, kissing her again, but leaving a playful bite on her lower lip.

“What?” She was lifted her eyebrows, the picture of innocence, as she twisted her hips against his again.

“Christ, Veronica, you’re killing me,” He groaned, fighting the urge to roll her over and give her a taste of her own medicine. Something about her smile and her slightly exaggerated bravado, told him that she needed to be the one calling the shots, and he was more than happy to comply.

Her laugh made his—admittedly entirely enjoyable—suffering worth it. Shifting slightly, he attempted to relieve some of the pressure.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, chewing her lip slightly, her teasing faded rapidly to something like nervousness.

“Nothing,” He assured her, perhaps too enthusiastically. “Nothing at all. It’s just… it’s been a while.”

Veronica let out a breath. “Right. Yeah, me too.”

He leaned up to kiss her, long and slow, taking time to move away from her mouth, down her jaw, and stopping next to her ear. “Maybe we shouldn’t make it longer,” He whispered.

She shivered, and he felt her swallow hard. Panic rose in his chest. He’d moved too fast, said the wrong thing, scared her, finally ruined things for good. “You’re right.”

Something shifted between them, as if the air had become warmer, or the silence even quieter. Veronica moved over him, and his breath caught.

_This isn’t real. This can’t be happening._

He’d never been lucky. In a darker phase of his life he’d believed he was cursed, and that belief reasserted itself in that moment. This was far too good to be true.

Unaware of where his thoughts had gone, Veronica sank down on him, and his full attention was returned to her.

He probably said something, muttered something incoherent and inconsequential about her being beautiful, stunning, or—god forbid—perfect. She didn’t seem to hear him as she moved experimentally, finding positions and motions she liked. He could have watched her all night, seeing one expression of pleasure chase after another on her face, watching the shadows and lights from passing cars play across her face until the sun began to filter in through the window.

Veronica soon settled into a steady rhythm, building into something faster that was testing his already frayed self-control.

He trailed one hand up her back, tracing the ridges of her spine and drawing his hand over them again, feeling her shudder as her muscles contracted and relaxed with her movement. His other hand fisted in the sheets; he had to fight the urge to hold her hips and change her pace to match his need.

“God,” She breathed softly, finishing it was a low moan. Her hips bucked against him and her motion became erratic.

“Fuck.” He was rapidly losing control, praying to whatever god might be listening that he could last as long as she did. _Don’t ruin this now, you—_

“JD!” Veronica’s breathing sped up and she bucked her hips, grinding into him and pulling more curses from his lips.

He felt her tremble, shudder, soften, and he finally let go in a dizzying climax that left him gasping as the world fell away and his entire being was focused on her and her alone.

When he came back to awareness, he was rubbing slow circles on her back, and she was nestled against his chest, still panting slightly. JD leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Veronica rolled off of him, stretching languidly and squirming until she was comfortably buried in his blankets and pillows.

Her sent was still on his skin and his sheets, and he moved to lie next to her, pressing a soft kiss into her shoulder.

They drifted off like that, or at least JD did, and he was fairly certain Veronica was asleep until he heard her whisper his name.

“Are you still awake?” She said.

“Yeah,” He muttered, still half asleep.

“Do you think,” She paused, and JD almost fell asleep again in the momentary silence. “Do you think that the reason we’re together, after everything that happened, is because we’re so fucked up there’s no one else we can be with?”

JD tried to think about what she said. He really wanted to, but the fog of exhaustion weighed on his eyes and pulled him towards unconsciousness. Finally, he managed to say, “I don’t know. But, Veronica?”

“Mhm?”

“If I’m going to be fucked up with anyone; I want to be fucked up with you.”


	14. Violent Delights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are entering the home stretch for this story. I'm not sure what my update schedule will be like, and I'm also running a poll on my blog so people can tell me if they'd rather have another chapter of this, or Someone Else's War. Let me know and Enjoy!

The bed was empty when JD woke up. The fact that it was all a dream occurred to him and his heart sank.

The vague snatches of what he remembered seemed far too good to be true, so it was with some caution that he went to the kitchen, believing he would see Veronica asleep on her couch as usual.

But she wasn’t on her couch. She was in the kitchen, standing in front of the stove.

In one of JD’s shirts.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him before returning to whatever she was cooking.

JD approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss against the back of her throat, just between the collar of his shirt and the end of her hair.

Veronica smiled and stretched, leaning back into him.

He kissed her again, this time over the fabric on her shoulder.

“This is going to burn,” Veronica said, making no move to get away from him as she gestured at the eggs she was scrambling.

“Let it.” JD let his hands trail towards the hem of the shirt and skim over her thighs.

Veronica laughed breathlessly. “And here I was nervous about having an awkward morning-after conversation.”

“We can do that later.” He reached past her and turned the stove off before turning her around so he could kiss her. He did want to have a conversation about this, and about everything else that had happened last night, but for now he wanted to bathe in the bright morning light and spend time with her.

She didn’t argue. They stumbled back into the living room so JD could lift her onto the table and stand between her spread legs. Veronica leaned over him, smiling.

It shouldn’t have been easy. After everything they’d been through, everything should be complicated and difficult and messy. But kissing her wasn’t. Nothing about this was; it felt perfectly natural.

Veronica sighed softly and leaned her head against his. “This is nice,” she whispered, echoing his thoughts.

JD just nodded, pressing another kiss against her lips.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” She asked as he ran his hands up and down her sides.

He laughed low in his throat. “We’re both stubborn assholes.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Don’t call me an asshole.”

“Okay, so why do you think we didn’t do this sooner?” He bit her shoulder playfully.

Laughing, she rubbed the faintly red mark. “Because…” She trailed off and kissed him slowly.

“Mhm, what were you saying?” He murmured.

“Nothing.” She kissed him again.

JD smiled into her lips. “Are you trying to avoid admitting that you think I’m right?”

“No.”

Resting one hand in her hair, he kissed her softly. “That only proves my point, stubborn asshole.”

Veronica laughed breathlessly and leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder and he rubbed her back gently.

They passed a few minutes like that, quietly holding each other, letting the unfamiliar but very welcome sensation of being touched washed over them.

“Veronica,” JD said, when he couldn’t wait another second. “We really should talk about last night.”

She heaved a sigh. “Look, it’s fine. I’m not going to kill anyone. I was freaked out last night, that’s all.”

“I don’t disagree with you, you know,” JD said. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want him to die, but I don’t think we should hunt him down. That’s not who we are.”

Anymore.

The word hung between them, though neither of them spoke it aloud.

“Having said that,” JD continued before the silence could become awkward, “I’m going to start keeping the gun loaded. We won’t hunt him down, but if that bastard shows his face here…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

Again, Veronica let out her breath, but this time there was relief in it, rather than frustration. JD got the feeling she’d been holding that breath for a while. She rested her head against his shoulder, breathing deeply, and he held her.

After a minute she pulled away, her face a perfect mask; he’d gotten all the vulnerability he would get for today.

“So, what plans am I sitting on?” She asked, gesturing to the paper on the table underneath her.

He glanced down and saw the rudimentary sketches he’d done for the motel building. “This old motel. The neighborhood got bad so it shut down, but I’m hoping we can find some bored rich person to sponsor us turning it into a homeless shelter.”

Veronica tilted her head, studying him for a long moment.

Finally, JD got self-conscious. “What?”

“Nothing,” She said, glancing down and fiddling with a loose string on her shirt. “It’s just… somewhere along the way you became a good person.”

“I was always trying to be,” He said thoughtfully. “Even back then I wanted to do the right thing. I just didn’t know how.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“I know.”

“I meant… I’m not a good person. I think if you’d asked me back then, after everything, where we would be in ten years, I would have thought I would…” Veronica stopped.

He sat next to her on the table, settling his arm around her shoulders. “You aren’t a bad person, Veronica.”

“I’ve hurt people.” Her voice was a slightly choked whisper that made his chest ache. “Betty Finn, Heather, all of my friends in Chicago, one way or another I hurt every single one of them.”

“Heather forgave you,” JD said. “Maybe the others would too, if they knew what was happening.”

Veronica sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I can’t tell them. I couldn’t even tell you.”

“You could try,” He offered. Though Heather had told him enough that he understood, he wanted to hear it from Veronica.

She lifted her head to look at him. “I don’t even know how to start.”

“Start in the middle and work your way out,” He suggested, sure that it came from something he’d read, but unable to place the quote.

A soft smile crossed her face before her expression hardened and turned grim. “There’s so much…”

JD didn’t say anything. He’d found that whenever Cab didn’t try to fill the silence, he would fill it himself, and he was hoping Veronica would do the same.

“He burned my book.” The words fell flatly from her mouth and landed, undecorated, between them. “I mean, he mostly burned my notes for the book, but he destroyed what I’d written too.”

“What was it about?” He asked, hoping it wasn’t insensitive, but genuinely curious.

“You’re going to laugh,” She said, a half-attempt at a smile tugging on her lips.

He held up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute. “I promise I won’t.”

“It was a true crime novel about a serial killer.”

JD broke his promise, but only a little bit; he’d never been a boy scout.

Veronica knocked gently into his shoulder. “Shut up. It was historical. I was doing research in the school library and I came across these old newspaper articles about a manhunt for this guy who’d killed dozens of people. I dug a little further and found the book he wrote while in prison. I got kind of obsessed, and since Dominic had a good job, I quit mine so I could work on making this story into a book.”

She filled in the rest of the story with a carefully bored tone that JD didn’t believe. It was clear that she was still grieving the loss of all that work. She had done or said something that pissed him off—she claimed to no longer remember what—and he had waited until she’d left the next day to destroy all her notes and the copies of what she’d been working on so far.

“I came home and realized what happened and I was so angry, and that just made him worse, he kept screaming about how I cared more about my book than him, and a bunch of crazy shit.” She stopped, and JD felt cowardly and relieved that she didn’t describe the violence that must have followed.

“I went to Heather’s place,” Veronica said. “It was the middle of the night, and I must have looked awful, and we hadn’t even spoken in more than a month. You probably know the rest.”

“Yeah.”

Seemingly exhausted, Veronica slumped into his shoulder and he carefully rubbed her back, waiting for her to pull away. She didn’t.

Nostradamus emerged from under the couch to leap daintily onto the table next to Veronica, where he curled against her side.

 _Good boy,_ JD thought at the cat.

“I’ve been wanting to write something else,” Veronica continued, stroking Nostradamus absently. “I just have no idea where to start.”

“You don’t want to try again with the same book?”

She shook her head. “Too Sisyphean at this point.”

“Not everything you do will get destroyed,” He offered rather lamely.

Veronica just shrugged, barely acknowledging his comment. “A book is too much, but maybe starting something smaller wouldn’t be bad.”

“Like what?”

Smiling, she bumped his arm again. “A profile on Boston’s vigilante architects?”

“Do you want me to go to prison? Because that’s how I end up in prison.”

Veronica pressed a hand to her chest in melodramatic offense. “How dare you? A journalist never reveals her sources!”

“Right,” He said, “And I’m sure no one would ever guess that your source is the architect that you live with.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “But you know, if you went to prison I could take your bedroom…”

JD smiled and grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles gently. “You can have it anyway.”

Veronica blushed and looked away, and a shy awkwardness settled between them. JD kept his grip on her hand, and she didn’t move away from him.

* * *

It was a strangely adolescent moment for them, sitting and holding hands, both blushing like they had some innocence left, though deep down they both knew better.

Still, Veronica liked it. Just like she always liked the normal, safe way JD made her feel.

“I’m going to go smoke,” She said, selfishly hoping he would offer to come with her. He didn’t like the smell since he’d quit, but she liked having him with her. The image of the two of them dancing, taken from a distance through the fire-escape window was still burned into her mind, providing a sharp reminder of what might be waiting if she went outside.

“I’ll—“

The phone rang, cutting him off. He went to answer it with a lingering, regretful look at Veronica.

Feigning bravery, she climbed out the window and sat down with her knees against her chest, pressed as close to the wall and out of sight as she could be.

Smoking was typically relaxing for her—one of the few things that still was—but it did little to relieve her tension as she scanned the street, searching for a familiar face.

She didn’t find one, but that wasn’t comforting. He might still be out there, watching her from somewhere she couldn’t see.

There was no way to know.

Her heart began to beat too fast, tripping and falling over its own rhythm until Veronica wondered if this was what a heart attack felt like, even though she’d felt this a hundred times before.

Stubbing out her half-finished cigarette, she dove for the window, knocking her head against the frame. The pain barely registered in her desperation to get inside and slam the window shut.

She only started to breathe when the curtains were closed.

“Right. Yeah. No. Colin, I’ll be there—Shit. I said no. I have to go, but I’ll be there tomorrow. Just keep everything together until then and for god’s sake calm down.” JD hung up the phone with a sharp click that made Veronica jump, but he crossed the room and hugged her, quickly undoing what little damage had been done.

He stroked her hair gently. “What happened? Did you see…” He didn’t finish the question, for which she was grateful.

She shook her head. “No. I—I just got nervous.”

JD nodded, and Veronica admired how easily he pretended that was normal.

“Let’s get out of here,” JD said, stepping back and holding his hand out to her.

Eyeing the door warily, Veronica shook her head. “I don’t think—“

He cut her off. “We’ll go all the way out of the city, no one will follow us.”

When Veronica continued to hesitate, he took the hand he’d been reaching for. “Would you just trust me, please?” He asked with a hint of playful exasperation.

Chewing her lip, Veronica nodded.

It was freezing outside, but speeding away from their building and leaving the city behind them was a relief.

Veronica pressed her face against JD’s back, letting him block her from a majority of the wind. It was a good excuse to stay close to him, though strictly speaking she didn’t need an excuse anymore. If last night was any indication, JD didn’t mind being close to her.

He pulled off the highway and started to wind through a quaint residential area full of pale, weathered houses with heavy shutters.

She could smell the ocean before she could see it, and ancient memories from long-ago family vacations bubbled to the surface as JD finally stopped the bike in front of a short boardwalk leading to the beach.

“What are we doing here?” Veronica asked, following him towards the crashing waves.

“I wanted to show you something.”

He led the way further down the walk until they’d reached an empty stretch of beach, dotted occasionally with ‘For Sale’ signs.

“This is where I was when I got the idea for the house I was designing before the motel project came in.”

“Right,” Veronica said, remembering her clumsy attempt to decode his early plan. “The one with lots of windows.”

He smiled out onto the horizon. “With a view like this, you’d want lots of windows.”

“Absolutely,” Veronica said with a sage nod. She was surprised to find that she could breathe out here. With the way JD had been driving, there was no way anyone could have followed them, and the open space would give them plenty of warning if someone were to come along. This was the closest she’d come to feeling safe outside in a long time.

Curling into his side, she smiled. “This is nice.”

“I think so too.”

They settled on the sand, cuddling close together for warmth and because it was a nice way to enjoy the view and the watery late winter sunlight.

JD pressed a kiss into her hair, and Veronica shifted so she could kiss him, sinking into the strange safety. Pulling herself even closer, Veronica reached her hands under JD’s coat and shirt to slide them over his skin.

“Christ your hands are cold,” He muttered, pulling away a bit.

Veronica smiled, laughing in childish delight.

“Oh, that’s how you want to play?” Reaching behind her, JD slid his equally frozen hands into her jeans and gripped her ass.

Shrieking, Veronica tried to pull away, but she was laughing too hard to get very far. Rather than keep trying, she pulled JD closer and kissed him again, nuzzling into his neck.

He rolled them over, balancing on his elbows and kissing her back enthusiastically.

“Shit, stop,” Veronica grumbled, shifting slightly.

JD pulled away immediately. “What?”

“Sand,” She said simply. “Not to mention it’s freezing out here.”

Sighing, he flopped onto his back next to her. “God, we really are adults aren’t we? Ten years ago, that definitely wouldn’t have stopped us.”

She just laughed and moved over to rest her head on his chest.

“Do you want to go home?” He asked, kissing her hair. “There’s no sand and it’s warmer so…”

“Pervert,” She said, rolling her eyes.

He stuck his tongue out at her.

Jokes aside, she didn’t want to go. As nice as it would have been to spend some time forgetting everything, it felt even better to be so far away from her problems. This empty beach could have been a different planet as far as she was concerned.

JD didn’t ask if she wanted to leave again. He stroked her hair and let her sit in silence until she was ready to talk.

“I should call Heather; she probably thinks I’m dead or something.”

“She would appreciate that.” He stood and held out his hand, and Veronica used it to haul herself to her feet, brushing massive amounts of sand off of her pants.

The sky darkened as they drove back towards the city, and Veronica’s mood went with it. The buildings got taller, and she pressed herself even closer to JD, feeling like they were driving into a giant mouth that was about to swallow her whole.

It was a relief to return to their familiar neighborhood, and their apartment was welcoming and comfortable.

JD went to the table and pulled one of his drafts from under a small pile and started to erase some lines and fill in new ones. Keeping one eye on him, Veronica went to the phone. She dialed Heather’s office number, knowing that she would reach Heather’s assistant, who would be able to put her through to Heather.

Her assumption was correct, as it had been since Heather was promoted to a position that required an assistant. Soon, the phone was ringing, and Heather’s brusque voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, Heather it—“

“Veronica, oh my god, what the fuck? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? And the fact that I had to sit in a bar with JASON _FUCKING_ DEAN just to hear that you’re alive—“

“I’m sorry, Heather. I shouldn’t have forgotten that you were coming, and I should have told you about JD, and I should have told you that I was worried Dominic might be in town.”

“No,” Heather said, and her voice was calmer and more level. “I’m sorry. You told me you were worried and I didn’t believe you.”

“It’s okay,” Veronica said, surprised to find that she meant it. “Things have been crazy for both of us. Are you still in town? I’d love to meet up.”

Heather sighed. “No, I’m in New York. Quinn has some work to do here with a friend of hers from school. If I get a chance I’ll take the train up before we head back to Chicago though, okay?”

“I’d like that.”

“Veronica, I’m really glad you’re okay.”

There was a long silence, and Veronica sensed that there was a ‘but’ coming.

She was correct. “But I have to ask about JD. I don’t know how well you remember the aftermath of the last time you were together—“

“Vividly,” Veronica snapped. “It’s not like that.”

“What, you’re just friends?” Skepticism oozed from Heather’s voice, though Veronica thought she might have been trying to hide it. “I don’t buy that, Veronica.”

“We’re not just friends,” Veronica agreed, glancing sidelong at JD who was absorbed in his work. “But it isn’t like before.”

“Okay. I just worry, because you have horrible taste in men.”

“If you tell me I should stick to girls—“

“Relax, I’m not going to make that joke twice, Jesus. Just be careful, Ronnie, that’s all I ask.”

“I will, Heather. Thanks. Tell Quinn I said hi.”

“I will. Have a good night, Veronica. Call me if you need anything.”

After agreeing to do so, Veronica hung up the phone, suddenly rather exhausted. Crossing the room, she threw herself onto the couch, disturbing Nostradamus who’d been asleep on the pillows.

JD set his pencil down. “Is Heather okay?”

“Yeah. She was worried about me and she made sure to remind me that I have terrible taste in men, but I think she doesn’t hate me.”

“She definitely doesn’t hate you,” JD agreed, and Veronica wondered what exactly the two of them had talked about when they’d gotten that drink.

“Can I see what you’re working on?” Veronica asked, standing up, which again disturbed the resettled Nostradamus.

She noticed that before he agreed, JD shuffled a couple of papers, hiding whatever he’d been working on in favor of something else.

“This is the plan for the motel. I should try to sell it to you as practice for tomorrow.”

“What’s tomorrow?” She could hear the alarm in her voice, and hoped he didn’t notice. She didn’t want him to think she would panic every time he left her alone.

His face twisted slightly, into an expression she couldn’t read. “Colin found some rich people who might want to back the project, but I have to be there to help him sell the plans. It might be an all-day thing.”

Against her will, Veronica’s eyes flicked to the window, imagining eyes watching from the other side of the glass. “Good luck,” She managed, proud that her voice sounded almost normal.

“You could come,” He offered.

Veronica shook her head. “I have work I should be doing.” She’d been slacking on her letter writing lately, and even Sasha couldn’t be forgiving forever.

“Okay.”

Later that night, Veronica woke up from an unsettling dream she could barely remember. JD was stroking her arm, whispering comforting nonsense to her.

Shifting slightly, she curled even closer to him, wishing she could pretend she wasn’t still scared. “What if…” She trailed off, unable to articulate any of the terrible what-if’s.

“We’re going to be okay,” He whispered, and Veronica sensed that he wasn’t quite as confident as he sounded. “I promise.”


	15. Violent Ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for abuse, read with caution if you are easily triggered.  
> "These violent delights have violent ends  
> And in their triumph die."

Veronica woke with her back pressed against JD’s, and Nostradamus curled at her feet. Cozy, comfortable, pleasant: words and concepts flitted through her head, fuzzy and unconnected in her half-sleeping mind. All she knew was that this was nice, and she didn’t want it to end.

So naturally an alarm started shrieking, jolting her fully into the morning and startling JD, who slammed his hand down on the offending clock.

He groaned and rolled over, pinning her against his chest with one heavy arm. “Five more minutes.”

Smiling, Veronica made no attempt to argue. She cuddled closer to his warm chest and let herself drift back into the pleasant half-sleep she’d been forced out of moments before.

She awoke fully when JD removed his arm and moved away from her, stopping to kiss the top of her head. “I have to go, Veronica. I’ll be back this afternoon.”

“Come home sooner if you can,” She muttered. “And don’t forget to feed the cat before you leave.”

Anticipating his breakfast, Nostradamus stood, walking carefully over Veronica’s legs to leap of the bed and scratch the door.

“He would never let me forget to feed him,” JD assured her, and stood to get ready.

Lulled by the sounds of JD moving around the room, showering and getting dressed, Veronica went back to sleep.

When she woke up, the apartment was empty.

As always, it felt hollow without JD. Though she considered it home—more than her badly decorated apartment ever had been—it was still very much JD’s place, and his presence lingered when he wasn’t around.

Nostradamus mewed and rubbed her legs as she walked into the kitchen. She smiled down at him fondly. “Or maybe I just miss him, you’re right.”

The cat purred affectionately and then settled himself on the couch while she got to work on letters at the table, carefully moving JD’s plans out of the way to do so. She lingered over the drawing of the house with all the windows. She wished she had an idea for what it would look like as a house, and not the vague, blueprint outline, but JD always kept his sketches in his notebook, and he’d taken that with him.

In her mind, she was picturing this as a small, well-lit cottage, neatly placed near the beach so that it could be buffeted with wind and become properly weathered. What an ideal thought that made.

Pushing all thoughts of pleasant little cottages by the sea away—those were too indulgent and impossible for her—she set to work answering Helpful Heather’s letters.

After she’d answered all the ones she had, Veronica stood up and stretched, massaging her cramped hand.

Nostradamus, too, stretched languidly and leapt off the couch to investigate what she was doing. Veronica scratched his head and glanced towards the curtains. They were still closed, of course, but she’d been checking them all morning, just in case they somehow shifted and exposed her.

With her letters answered, she turned her attention to cleaning the apartment.

_A fresh start,_ she reminded herself. That had been her motto when she’d first come to Boston, and she wanted whatever this was with JD to be the same thing. Like he’d said, it wasn’t about the past. Not anymore.

Certainly everything was different. She was living with JD, and now sleeping with him, something she hadn’t thought would ever happen.

She hadn’t thought she would have anything close to this, ever again.

Though the nerves still remained, she felt she could live with avoiding windows for a while, and if she and JD were careful when they left the apartment, there were ways they could make this work. Guilt still itched at the back of her mind when she thought about the danger JD was in, but she soothed herself with the thought that JD was choosing this. He knew, now, why she was so scared, and why she had tried to push him away, and he still wanted her.

“He’ll be fine, Nostradamus,” Veronica said, and the cat watched her, his tail flicking contentedly. “He’s probably indestructible anyway.”

She thought about the scar on his chest, left from where she’d shot him. The proof that he could be hurt was like cold water, but it also reminded her of something important. She crossed the room to the small table with its single drawer.

The gun rested inside the drawer on top of an outdated phonebook, and Veronica lifted it out carefully. JD had loaded it as promised, and holding it was a strange combination of comforting and unsettling. Still, she was glad she had it.

Returning it to its place, she went back to cleaning, but she could sense that table behind her, and she found herself turning to look at it sometimes.

“I’m paranoid,” Veronica muttered. “JD is right; I need therapy.”

Hours passed and she had finished most of her jobs when someone knocked on the door. It was probably Mrs. Levitansky or—less likely—Mr. Parrish needing some task done that their various medical difficulties prevented. Though either of them would protest Veronica doing their work, she went to the door anyway. It was late enough that she was starting to think JD might be home soon, but part of that was hope rather than logic.

When she opened the door her eyes took him in slowly, adding the parts together one by one before she could interpret the whole. Tall, Glittering dark eyes, dark hair, expensive clothes, everything familiar and terrible.

Dominic smiled. “Hello, Veronica.”

* * *

JD hated this part of his job. He’d never been a natural at any kind of schmoozing, and it went against his most basic nature to go out of his way to try to impress useless rich people who saw acts of charity as passably entertaining ego-boosts.

_They’re not useless,_ JD reminded himself sharply. They were rich, which was a use of its own. And they had good intentions. The people he was talking to now were perhaps a little pompous, but they seemed interested in the cause, and they were more than wealthy enough to back it. So JD kept his plastered on smile fixed in place and continued to walk them through the old motel, showing them his sketches and some of the blueprints he’d drawn up.

Downstairs, JD could faintly hear Colin giving his pitch to two other couples who were considering the venture. If they got partial support from a few of these people, they’d be able to complete the project, though there was no chance of making money off it.

Mike hadn’t been able to handle that, and had dropped out of the project, though Colin believed he’d come back once they were doing safer and more lucrative projects again.

“Dean doesn’t get that we don’t all have daddy’s money.” Mikes words, which Colin had reluctantly relayed to him, stung.

_That’s what I get for not telling anyone about my life,_ He thought as he set Mr. and Mrs. Harris loose to explore the least disgusting room that remained in the motel. _If I’d mentioned that my dad was shit and how mom died, he wouldn’t have said it._

A brief image of Veronica, furious and ready to fight Mike, which JD suspected she would be if she heard about what he’d said, flashed through his mind, and the fake smile he wore softened into a natural one.

He couldn’t wait to be home with her.

“Now, what’s your plan for staff recruitment,” Mrs. Harris asked, interrupting his thoughts and apparently forgetting that JD was an architect, and had no idea how staff was recruited for any kind of business.

“I think,” JD said, rushing to find some kind of answer, “It would be good to get people from the community to staff the place. That way they’ll be familiar faces, and we might be able to increase employment in the area.”

Nodding in approval, Mrs. Harris moved on to the next room, offering a comment about the state of the motel that made JD cringe. Of course it didn’t look good; they hadn’t given any money for renovations yet.

_Veronica, give me strength._

When they returned to the first floor, Colin waved him over. “Can you show them some of your sketches? They’d like to be able to visualize the potential.” The subtle sarcasm was almost remarkable in the way that it conveyed Colin’s quiet frustration to JD, but only to JD. Somehow the other people in the room seemed completely unfazed by his tone.

“Yeah, I have some right here. There’s not much that we can salvage from the interior but we can save the structure and repurpose it into something that benefits people who need it.” He pulled out his notebook and began pointing out the layout details he was most proud of.

Colin smoothly shifted to talking to the Harrises so that no one was allowed the chance to talk on their own.

When the three couples had finally left, JD let his shoulders sag and massaged his face.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Colin said grimly. “We have about a dozen more people scheduled to show up today.”

JD groaned. _Sorry Veronica, I’ll come home as soon as I can._

* * *

At first, Veronica could almost make herself believe it was a friendly visit.

“Dominic.” She could barely get his name out. “What are you doing here?”

He’d pushed his way into the apartment while she was still shocked to see him and now they faced each other in JD’s living room, like the still moment in a boxing match when both fighters are sizing each other up, before the fight begins.

“It’s been a long time,” He said as casually as he would have if they’d run into each other in the grocery store.

“Yes,” Veronica replied. _I was running from you._

He moved just slightly to the left, and Veronica shifted, though she immediately regretted it. He wanted her to move for him, to give way to him, and she would have looked stronger if she had stood her ground.

Carefully, Veronica backed towards the drawer, hoping he wouldn’t notice her slow movements. If she could get the gun…

“How are you?”

She wanted to yell at him. He didn’t care, and he probably thought he already knew. “I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, and you’ve been avoiding me.” His voice was colder than she’d remembered.

“Yes.”

His hand connected with her face an instant later, so fast it took her a moment to understand why her head was turned, and what the pain in her cheek meant. She hadn’t even noticed he was standing close enough to hit her.

Dominic took a long, slow breath. “I wish you hadn’t talked back to me, Veronica. You know I hate that.”

She did know that.

“Apologize.”

She was terrified, frightened in a way that went beyond normal fear, so that she felt like her body was a stone statue, frozen a few feet in front of where _she_ actually was. But something else slinked up her spine, curling around the frozen, scared places; rage.

She was _pissed._ Not just bitter, like she often was when she thought about her situation with Dominic, but truly, fundamentally angry about what he was saying.

“No.” Veronica was not going to apologize for running. She wasn’t going to apologize for leaving, or for talking back, or for the person she had become, even if that person was a little bit shitty.

Dominic froze, tilting his head as though he thought he’d misheard her. “What?”

Veronica found the will to smile, stored in a deep, strong place that she’d forgotten. “I said no.”

He swung to hit her again, but this time Veronica’s hand shot up to catch his. The blow didn’t land with any of the force he’d been attempting, and she managed to push him away from her.

The table with the gun was two steps behind her. If she could get to it, this situation would be back under her control. She took two rapid steps back, but by then Dominic had recovered and he stepped forward to shove her.

Veronica fell, and her head connected with the corner of the table she’d been reaching for. Her vision blurred with automatic tears and her hand groped the back of her head and came away bloody.

“I just wanted to talk,” Dominic said, moving to stand over Veronica’s huddled form. “Why does it always have to be like this with us?”

“Get out of my house,” Veronica hissed, clumsily attempting to stand despite her spinning head.

“No, I came here to have a conversation, and I really want to have it. You can stay sitting.”

Veronica didn’t give up on her attempts, trying to use the table to pull her to her feet.

Ignoring her, Dominic paced the apartment and came across Nostradamus, who had emerged from under the couch to investigate the noise. “You have a cat.”

He kicked out at Nostradamus, clearly intending harm.

“Nosy!” Veronica couldn’t help crying out, but the cat moved faster than she could shout. He hissed and leapt out of the way, running into the bedroom to hide.

Relief flooded Veronica enough that she managed to pull herself to her feet. “Leave him alone.”

“Don’t give me orders.” Dominic rounded on her, but was too far away to do anything. “I have questions. Sit down and answer them.”

Veronica didn’t move away from the table; she was still trying to open the drawer without Dominic noticing, but his sharp eyes stayed on her. Inch by inch, she tugged the drawer open and started to grope blindly inside it. “I’d rather stay here.”

Rather than address her argument, Dominic crossed the room and grabbed Veronica by the hair, hauling her around and throwing her bodily into the back of the couch.

She felt something crack when her ribs hit the hard corner of the couch, and she lay over it gasping, unable to take a full breath.

“Now,” Dominic said steadily, “Let’s talk about _him_.” He slapped a picture of JD down next to Veronica’s face.

Despite the fact that she could barely breathe, her voice came out strong. “Leave him out of this.”

Dominic clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Who is he?”

“No one.”

He kicked her in the shin, hard. “Who is he?”

“My friend.” She hated that she gave him any kind of answer, but pain was making her dizzy, and she had learned long ago that giving in might make the pain stop. Still, nothing he did could make her try to explain her relationship to JD.

For an instant, Veronica saw Dominic’s façade crack as he kicked her again. “Tell the truth you bitch.”

She’d never liked being called a bitch. “Fuck you.”

He hauled her off the couch, pushing her to the ground, close to the table again. Her hope slightly renewed, she started the long, painful process of standing, which she only managed to do because she could lean onto the table.

The room swam, and she couldn’t tell if it was because of the head injury or the fact that she couldn’t take a full breath without excruciating pain. She was close. All she had to do was get to the drawer.

She locked eyes with Dominic, and watched as he drew a gun from his pocket. “I didn’t want this, Veronica. I think we can find a solution without my needing this, but I want you to know that I have it.”

This time she said nothing. She didn’t have enough breath for speaking, and though the rage still simmered underneath her skin, stronger than the fear that made her legs shake and her mind spin. Glaring at him, she hoped he understood all her anger without words.

_The gun. I have to get the gun._

Again, she moved slowly, disguising her actions with cringes of pain that didn’t need to be faked. Finally, the drawer was open, and her hand was clasped over the gun.

_Yes!_

Turning, she raised her arm. She didn’t have to aim, she knew where he was, and she knew what she was doing. For the first time in her life, there was no hesitation when she pulled the trigger.

_Click._

The safety was on.

In her second of hesitation as she tried to find the switch, Dominic lunged forward and shoved her to the ground.

The gun fell from her hands and slid out of reach, and she couldn’t contain a small scream as she fell onto her wrist and her face connected with the floor.

Dominic stood over her, pointing his gun at her with a practiced air of lazy carelessness. “It was a good try, Veronica, but we know you couldn’t go through with it. It’s just not who you are.”

_You’d be surprised,_ Veronica thought viciously, unable to speak around the mouthful of blood. _I’ll kill you, given half a fucking chance, you bastard._ She knew JD would too, and a part of her was clinging to the hope that he would be back soon and stop all this.

“I still want to talk about this _friend_ of yours. Did you really think you could replace me?”

“I didn’t need to,” Veronica ground out, each word painful. The world was growing blurring through an eye that was swelling shut, and getting air into her lungs was becoming more and more painful.

Dominic didn’t acknowledge her words. “I thought I could scare him away. I have to admit, I was surprised when he fought back, not that it did anything. He got lucky.”

Veronica had known that Dominic had been the one to attack JD, but hearing it still turned her stomach. “Stay away—“ She couldn’t catch her breath enough to finish the sentence.

He laughed and tapped his foot against her ribs; she had to bite her cheek to keep from screaming.

“That’s not how this is going to go. I don’t like him. I don’t like what he’s done to you. You’re barely recognizable from the woman who ran away from me years ago.” Dominic kept a lazy grip on the gun that was still pointed in her direction. It crossed her mind that he could shoot her any second if he chose to. Carefully shifting, she stretched her arm towards the gun he’d knocked from her hands.

She was so close to touching it.

“This is nice,” He said, pacing away from her. “I’ve missed having you around, Veronica.”

“I hate you,” She hissed.

This didn’t seem to bother Dominic. “Well, you know how it is with relationships; when things are good, they’re perfect, and when they’re bad they’re terrible.”

A shudder of revulsion passed through Veronica and she renewed her efforts to reach the gun.

“I hate him, Veronica. This stranger that you live with. What did he ever do for you? You know you need me, you know you’ve missed having me there to take care of you, to guide you and make sure you didn’t make any mistakes. That’s why I’m here, Veronica. You made a mistake.”

The stretching was making her ribs hurt worse, and she could barely understand what he was saying through her body’s desperate desire to be unconscious.

“I’m going to fix the mistake, Veronica, we’re going to.” Dominic had started to look a little crazed, something Veronica had never thought she would see. He had always been calm and methodical, no matter what she was doing. It had gone a long way in convincing her that she was crazy back then. “We’ll wait for your friend to get home, and I’ll kill him. Once you understand what will happen to anyone who interrupts our plans, we’ll leave.”

_No._ Horror passed through her, hot and strong as she thought about that fate for JD. He’d come so far, and done so much good; he couldn’t die now. She wouldn’t let him.

“You… won’t…”

Dominic turned to her and his eyes fell on the gun, and her hand, just millimeters away from the handle. “Don’t you dare! I’ll kill you both!”

Veronica’s hand closed over the gun and she aimed it at him in the same instant that he pointed his at her.

* * *

Finally free from the purgatory of salesmanship, JD was thrilled to be returning home. He’d been dying to collapse onto his couch with Veronica in his arms for hours.

As he began the climb up the stairs, a peculiar dread settled in his stomach and weighed his limbs down. Something was wrong. The air or the lights… something wasn’t normal.

He heard a gunshot.

_Veronica._

He took off running before he’d been able to place the sound with his conscious thoughts. He’d heard the sound enough in the past to recognize it now, but here in an environment where he felt safe, it was as foreign as a wolf’s howl. Still, he ran, knowing somehow that the shot had come from his apartment.

JD didn’t bother with keys. He didn’t even bother to stop running, instead he threw the full force of his body against the door, and it broke under his weight.

Everything stops.

Veronica is on the ground.

JD is next to her, though he has no idea how he managed to make himself walk here, or when he decided to kneel on the ground next to her.

He barely registers the body of a man, bleeding and expiring on the floor across from Veronica. Later it would occur to him that he hated this man, but in the moment, nothing could have pulled his attention from her.

“Veronica?” He whispered, and his heart jumped to his throat when he rolled her over and saw her face.

She was covered in blood and bruises, her hair matted and wild around her face, but her eyes were open.

“Veronica,” He breathed her name as a sigh of exaltative relief. “It’s okay, you’ll be fine.” He had promised, after all.

What a foolish promise it had been.

“Keep your eyes open,” He whispered, cradling her gently.

From behind him, he heard Mrs. Levitansky approach the door and take in the scene. He glared over his shoulder. “Call 911. Now.” His voice was an unrecognizable snarl.

Mrs. Levitansky left.

JD stared at Veronica. “Listen to me. Just keep looking at me. Just keep your eyes open.” Somehow, he’d decided that she couldn’t die as long as she was looking at him, despite the faint, wheezing way she was breathing, and all her evident injuries. As long as her eyes were open, she would be okay. She had to be.

“Don’t close your eyes, darling.” JD cradled her close.

Despite his pleas, as sirens and lights surrounded the building, Veronica’s eyes slipped closed.


	16. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Tons of people took the time to ask me how long this update would take, so I expect y'all to comment on it now that it's done. Enjoy!

The ride to the hospital was frantic. JD felt like he was viewing disjointed snapshots, flashing in front of him like a broken projector.

Veronica strapped to a gurney, paramedics surrounding her and pushing him out of the way. Veronica being lifted into the ambulance and one paramedic half-heartedly allowing him to climb in after them.

Lights flashing, sirens blaring, paramedics shouting disconnected words JD couldn’t make sense of. Something about head trauma, and pneumothorax, and flail chest.

It all sounded bad, but he couldn’t focus on any one set of words long enough to panic about it.

He was at once immersed in his surroundings and detached from them, watching everything happen from a few feet away and above. “Is she going to be okay?” He asked, when he could finally access the part of his brain that was in charge of speaking.

No one responded.

At the hospital, the paramedics whisked Veronica away, leaving JD standing shocked in the sudden silence of the waiting room. Low instrumental music played in the background and fluorescent lights flared in his eyes as reality crashed around him.

_Will she be okay?_

There was still no answer.

A nurse bustled over to him holding a clipboard. Her hoarse, authoritative voice was soothing in it’s apathy. “Name?”

“Jason Dean.”

The nurse rolled her eyes. “ _Patient’s_ name?”

“Veronica Sawyer.”

“Your relationship to the patient?”

“She’s my friend.”

“Are you her emergency contact?”

JD shook his head. “That’s probably her parents. They live in Ohio.”

The nurse nodded. “I’ll have to call them. What else can you tell me about the nature of her injuries.”

“She was beaten,” JD said hollowly, the words becoming real as he said them. “Her ex boyfriend found her and….”

The nurse wrote something down and looked back at JD, waiting for more information. He just shrugged. The words had stopped coming as suddenly as they’d started.

“Do you have anything else you’d like to report?”

“No.”

She turned to walk away, but glanced back over her shoulder. “The phone is over there if there’s anyone you’d like to call. And the bathroom is on the left if you’d like to get cleaned up.”

He hadn’t even noticed the blood on his shirt and his hands. Still, he went to the phone first and mechanically dialed the number Heather had given him.

“Hello?” The voice was too deep to be Heather’s.

“Hi. I need to speak to Heather.”

There was a low discussion on the other end that JD couldn’t make out. Though he doubted anyone was listening he said, “Please it’s important.”

“Hello, who is this?”

“Heather, thank god. It’s Veronica.”

“What happened?”

The story rushed to his lips then died before he could speak it. In the end, all he managed was one choked word. “Dominic.”

There was a moment of confusion as Heather dropped the phone. He could faintly hear her breathing hard and the low words Quinn murmured to comfort her.

JD wanted comfort desperately, but the only person he found comforting was the reason he needed it. He glanced at the doors Veronica had vanished through, stupidly wishing that she might just walk back through them, perfectly fine.

She’d walked away from hanging herself once; perhaps she could walk away from this too.

With a bitter smile, he pressed the phone against his ear again, waiting for Heather to return to the line.

Finally, she said, “I’m coming there.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Yes, I do. Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “They took her away. Her head… God, Heather I don’t know.”

“And Dominic, what happened to him? Where is he?”

“Dead,” JD whispered, glancing back at the reception nurse, who was fixated on her computer.

There was a long silence, and JD almost thought Heather had dropped the phone again.

“He’s… you’re sure?”

“Well…” JD thought back, trying to find details from the confusing mess that his apartment had become once the paramedics and police had arrived. “I don’t actually know for sure. I know Veronica shot him, and they didn’t follow us to the hospital.”

“So he’s probably dead, right?” There was so much desperation and hope in Heather’s voice that JD didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Probably.”

Heather breathed a long sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

After another pause, Heather said, “I’m still coming as soon as I can get a train there.”

Though he wouldn’t have admitted it to her, he was looking forward to Heather’s company.

“I should go,” JD said, when the silence became strange. He had nothing to do and would have rather kept talking—anything to fill the emptiness—but he knew Heather had to go. “I’ll see you.”

He hung up.

The nurse’s words about cleaning himself up came back to him, and he took a few sluggish steps towards the bathroom she pointed out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see how bad he looked.

 _You’ve looked worse,_ Veronica’s voice reminded him in the back of his head. Unconsciously, his hand traced the outline of the scar on his chest over his shirt.

The mirror showed him a man who had been to hell and been spat back out again, and not in a triumphant way. When he pulled his blood-streaked jacket off and removed his sweater, he saw that his shoulder was mottled and red, promising an ugly bruise where he’d broken through the door. The fading bruises on his face completed the impression that he’d lost a fight.

He had to remind himself sharply that no one had lost yet. As far as he knew, Veronica was still breathing, and that was all that mattered.

When he was as presentable as he could get without a change of clothes, JD returned to the waiting room. It hadn’t crossed his mind to take anything with him, but as he settled into an uncomfortable plastic chair, he realized that he should have known there would be waiting.

“I called Ms. Sawyer’s next of kin. They informed me that they weren’t able to come here, but wanted me to keep them updated.”

There was something odd about the way the nurse was talking, her boredom and stubborn need to do her job seemed gone. In its place was a forced cheeriness and a new tension that JD hadn’t seen before.

JD glanced back at the phone, his paranoia about the nurse inspiring a sudden desire to call Cab and get all of this out. Craning his neck to look at the clock on the far wall, JD realized that it was too late to call Cab’s office, and looking up his personal number probably violated some unspoken contract they had between them, though JD supposed it was probable that he could find the number in the slightly mangled hospital phone book.

That, and the conversation that would follow, could at least kill time, which made it all the more tempting.

He turned his back on the phone. _You can handle this. She’s going to be okay._

_You promised._

He started pacing. The nurse occasionally glanced at him with worried eyes, like she’d discovered a time bomb in her normally quiet waiting room and wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

Ignoring her, JD paced on, wishing he knew what was happening behind the closed double doors.

_Veronica…_

After nearly an hour of pacing, JD began to feel his long day spent on his feet. Collapsing back into the chair he’d vacated earlier, he forced himself to close his eyes.

His dreams were messy and confusing, interrupted by the nurse’s radio, which spiked in volume occasionally.

Eventually, he fought his way to consciousness, glancing at the clock again. He walked over to the nurse’s station. “Do you have any updates?”

She looked up, her eyes bloodshot and tired. “No. I’ll tell you when I do.”

“Do you know how long—“

“She was badly hurt. They’ll take as long as they need to make her better.”

Chastised, JD returned to his seat.

The sky had lighted to a dull gray, barely visible through the dirty window and the buildings beyond, but JD watched the progress of light anyway, just for something to do.

The door swung open, and a woman in scrubs who looked as tired as JD felt walked in. “Veronica Sawyer?”

“Is she—“

“She’s still unconscious. There was head trauma, and her ribs were badly damaged, but I’m confident she’ll recover now that her breathing is back to normal. The head trauma… that’s a different story.”

“What do you mean?”

The doctor paused, and JD felt like he was watching her try to structure her sentence the right way. “Until she wakes up, there’s no way to know how badly damaged her brain is.”

“It shouldn’t be… She was awake when I found her… she shot him. She couldn’t have done that with brain damage, right?”

“Those are good signs,” The doctor acknowledged, “But I think you should prepare yourself for the possibility that she will wake up… different.”

“I don’t understand.” He did understand, but he couldn’t form the words to ask for details. He didn’t want them.

The doctor nodded and kept her voice even and clinical. “There are a lot of things that could happen, but I’m most concerned about memory loss. It’s possible this won’t happen, but amnesia is a common side effect of this kind of injury.”

Amnesia. “Would she… would everything go away?”

“I doubt that would be the case for Veronica. As you said, she was awake and possibly fairly lucid before she lost consciousness, which are good signs, but certain things, more recent memories might be gone.”

“Like things from the last couple months?” JD asked, dread settling in his stomach.

The doctor nodded absently. “Yes, that is a possibility. Again, she might wake up and be her normal self, there’s just no way to know for sure until she regains consciousness.”

“How long will that be?” JD asked, forcing himself to move past the horrible possibility the doctor had raised.

“It’s hard to say. The anesthetic we used for her operation should have worn off by now. We believe her brain shut off to protect itself, and it will start up again when it’s ready.”

He hated the way she dumbed down her speech, as if she could see him panicking and so tried to placate him like a child. “She’s in a coma?”

“I’m hesitant to use that word,” The doctor corrected.

“Then what would you call it?” JD snapped.

“Unconscious. I don’t think this will last.”

She was calm, confident, both things that JD found somewhat comforting, even if he wasn’t sure they were honest. Was it so bad that he wanted to believe her?

“Can I see her?” He asked, voice breaking.

She nodded and wordlessly led him through the doors he’d spent the last few hours staring at.

They stopped in front of a door that looked like all the others they’d passed. The doctor held it open for him, but he froze before he walked all the way into the room.

Veronica was lying there, perfectly still. The bruises on her face had had time to develop, and she was barely recognizable under the swollen purple mess on her cheek.

The doctor gave him a gentle push and he finally stepped into the room. “Talk to her,” She said firmly. “It might help.”

With that, she shut the door and left him alone.

JD approached the bed slowly, expecting Veronica to turn and look at him, or move, or do something that indicated that she was alive. But she didn’t. Only the consistent, shallow rise and fall of her bandaged chest and the even beeping of the heart monitor indicated that he wasn’t looking at a corpse.

“Veronica…” He pulled yet another hard plastic chair to the side of her bed and held her hand. “God, how could I let this happen?”

Cab’s voice in the back of his head reminded him that it wasn’t reasonable to blame this on himself, but he ignored it.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered. “You… this shouldn’t have happened to you. It shouldn’t happen to anyone, but god, you…”

A thought, aching and beautiful, struck him then, and he realized it was finally safe to voice something he’d never quite managed to. “If I’d never met you, Veronica, I probably wouldn’t have made it to twenty. And I don’t know how to say what I’m trying to say.”

He squeezed her hand gently and took a long, steadying breath. “I used to think I couldn’t really care about anyone. I thought that I loved you, in front of the school that day. You were so strong, Veronica, and so beautiful. I wanted to be like you were then: prepared to take on the world. I thought that must be what love was.”

His throat had gotten narrower, making this harder, but he pressed on. “But now… fuck, maybe I have no idea what love is. Maybe you’re right and we’re too fucked for that kind of thing, but I know it’s only you for me, Veronica. If I can love anyone, it’s you.”

If this was a movie, Veronica’s eyes would flutter open and she would smile softly through the bruises. “I love you too,” She would say.

But it wasn’t a movie, and Veronica’s eyes remained closed, and she said nothing.

The door opened again, startling him. Leaping out of his chair, JD whirled to face Heather, who was pale and exhausted in the doorway.

He stepped forward and surprised himself when he pulled her into a hug. She stiffened for a second, and then relaxed into it, gripping the back of his shirt.

They broke apart, and there was a long second of awkwardness as the reality that they weren’t even really friends crashed in around them.

“Is she going to be okay?”

JD sighed. “They aren’t sure. When she wakes up, they’ll be able to tell how much brain damage there was, if any.” He swallowed hard. “You might… when she wakes up, she may not remember the last few months.”

Heather nodded, taking this in. JD waited, watching her face as the realization he’d been fighting with dawned on her. “She might not remember you.”

“Oh, she’ll remember me,” JD said bitterly, “Just not the me she’s known in the past few months.”

Chewing her lip, Heather played with a string on her coat. “Maybe… Maybe you should go.”

JD’s voice cracked as he fought to speak around the lump in his throat. “I can’t.” He looked down at Veronica, lying on her bed like a princess in a fairy tale. “I can’t leave her.”

“I wouldn’t be able to either.” Heather grabbed another chair and sat down next to him.

More waiting.

Nothing happened. The heart monitor beeped on steadily, and Veronica remained asleep. JD and Heather sat in a silence that was as comfortable as it could be, under the circumstances.

Heather broke it first. “I never thought I’d be here. I knew it was always a possibility; she’s been running for so long, but I always thought one day he’d just give up.”

JD didn’t want to try and get in that guy’s head. “He should have.”

“Still no confirmation that he’s dead?”

“No, but whoever is in charge of that might not be allowed to tell us.”

She nodded and went back to staring at Veronica.

“Did you find her?” She asked softly, her eyes tracing the bruises on Veronica’s face.

JD nodded. “I heard the shot when I was coming inside. I think I broke down my door.” The memory was foggy and uncertain, but he certainly didn’t remember opening the door.

Heather let out a frail excuse for a laugh, which faded and died almost immediately. “I’m glad you did.”

“She put up a good fight,” JD said, not sure if it mattered at all. “When I came back my place was a mess.”

The same pitiful laugh—this time nearly a sob—coughed out of Heather. “She would.”

“You have no idea. Did she ever tell you she shot me?”

“She what?” This time, Heather’s laugh was almost natural. “No, she definitely didn’t tell me that. She never really talked about everything that happened with you.”

Shit. Did that mean _he_ had to talk about it? “She did the right thing, shooting me, I mean. I had… I’d gone of the rails. She put me back on track.”

Heather’s brow furrowed and she sighed. “I’m never going to know exactly what happened back then, am I?”

“Whatever you’re imagining; it was worse.”

She put her hands up. “I’m not imagining anything.”

JD almost found a laugh at that. He met Heather’s eyes forced some kind of smile for her.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Heather asked, so quietly JD almost thought he’d imagined it.

After a long breath, JD said, “She has to be.”

He realized that he couldn’t picture his life without her anymore. Somewhere along the way, she’d become a fixture. Her presence at the end of the day, laughing with her on his couch that had become his life.

Heather reached out and stroked Veronica’s hair, her expression soft and thoughtful. “Yeah. She has to be.”

There was another silence. JD went back to trying to figure out when Veronica had become such an integral part of his life.

And what he would do if she weren’t anymore.

“Where’s Quinn?” He asked abruptly. Small talk was better than hearing his thoughts.

“Still in New York. She has a few meetings she couldn’t get away from.”

“I’m sure she wishes she were here.”

Heather snorted. “No. Quinn hates hospitals. She was sick a lot as a kid. This would freak her out. That’s actually part of why she went into corporate law; she didn’t want to have to talk to people in hospitals.”

JD didn’t know how to respond, so he said nothing.

“I’ll call her when Veronica wakes up,” Heather added.

“Yeah,” JD agreed. “When she wakes up.”

He met Heather’s eyes, and they both looked away quickly. He had been hoping to see the confidence he’d heard in her voice, but saw only worry in her eyes.

He was sure Heather had found the same reflected in his.

“She’ll be okay,” JD repeated, and he didn’t know who he was trying to comfort.

Heather leaned her head on his shoulder, and he pretended he couldn’t see that she was crying. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”

“I know.”

“If— when she wakes up this stops and I go back to thinking you’re bad for her.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not even going to argue with me?”

“No.”

Heather huffed. “Jackass.”

This time, JD laughed—really laughed—and some part of the tension melted away from him when Heather joined him.

They stopped abruptly when the door swung open. Two police officers entered as JD and Heather stood, instinctively blocking Veronica.

“Jason Dean? You’re under arrest for the murder of Dominic Hale and the attempted murder of Veronica Sawyer.”

The world dropped out from under JD and he gaped at Heather, waiting for her reaction before he could find his own.

Her eyes showed confusion, betrayal, and horror as she glanced between him and Veronica. “What… What?” She stammered, but stepped aside so the officers could place him in handcuffs.

The steel clicking around his wrists brought reality crashing back around him. “Heather, I didn’t do this. Stay with Veronica; make sure she’s okay. Don’t let her wake up alone—“

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will—“

“Tell her I’ll be back soon.” They were dragging him away, and he didn’t fight them, but he refused to stop shouting at Heather. “Stay with her!”

The door swung shut as they pulled him towards the exit, and the last thing JD saw was Heather, staring at him in silent fury while Veronica slept on.


	17. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please try to be nice in your comments, I've had a rough few days. Enjoy!

Heather paced Veronica’s small hospital room until they asked her to leave so they could run more tests on Veronica and then she paced the waiting room outside.

She couldn’t forget the image of the police dragging JD out of the room in handcuffs. His shock when the police told him he was under arrest for trying to kill Veronica. His desperate eyes as he begged Heather to stay with Veronica.

Should she have intervened? She wasn’t sure. She knew, now that the cops were gone that it wasn’t likely that he’d done it. Even if he had killed Dominic and lied about Veronica doing it, it wouldn’t have been without justification. He couldn’t have beaten Veronica.

Right?

Heather groaned and dropped into a chair, letting her head rest on her palms. She didn’t want to blame JD. Part of her wanted to believe her judgment wasn’t that horrible—she had trusted him, after all—but another part of her knew that she didn’t know him all that well. And he had hurt Veronica before.

 _That was a decade ago_ , Heather reminded herself. She had changed so much in ten years, and so had Veronica. How could she assume that he hadn’t changed too?

 _A leopard can’t change his spots._ It was a dark reminder, and one she didn’t want to contemplate too hard.

If JD was the same as he had been back then, what did that mean? That he was capable of murder, for sure, but the people he and Veronica had killed back then weren’t good people. Heather was cruel for the fun of it and Kurt and Ram had been scum. Veronica, despite her flaws, was not a bad person. Even assuming JD hadn’t changed at all in ten years—which still seemed unlikely—that would mean that he only killed bad people.

So why try to kill Veronica and not just Dominic?

Unless beating Veronica had been part of a plan to make sure they got away with killing Dominic that had gone too far.

 _God, someone get me a tinfoil hat, I sound like a nutcase._ She had to be practical. Everything around her was going insane, so she needed to be collected and calm. She went over what she knew.

Fact: Dominic was dead and Veronica was in the hospital with severe head trauma due to a beating.

Fact: Veronica had been living with JD and he was the one to find both her and Dominic.

Fact: He had called Heather to tell her what happened, even when he’d been out of his mind with worry.

Guilt twisted Heather’s stomach when she thought about that. Though he’d been weird and kind of a dick in high school, he’d been nothing but polite to her when she’d told him about Dominic, and thinking to call her was more considerate than she probably would have been.

She went back to her facts, as feelings were starting to make her dizzy again.

Fact: The police had arrested him, and they weren’t allowed to do that for no reason.

Fact: The police had created dumb reasons before, and they would again.

Needing comfort and more than a little legal advice, Heather went to the phone and dialed Quinn’s number. She answered on the first ring.

“Heather! I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon? Is Veronica okay?”

“No,” Heather said miserably. “Everything is going to hell. Veronica might have brain damage and they arrested JD and now I’m not sure of anything.”

Heather rarely cried. She hated crying. She had associated it with weakness for as long as she could remember, but right now, no amount of stubbornness could have kept the tears in her eyes.

“Oh, sweetie,” Quinn whispered, though usually they didn’t use nicknames with each other. “It’s going to be okay. Tell me what happened.”

So Heather went through everything in agonizing detail, right up until the part where JD got arrested. “I just don’t know what to believe, Quinn. I thought…”

“Do you think he did it?” Quinn asked, and her low, cool voice pierced through the wild panic in Heather’s mind.

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to think I let Veronica down like that a second time.”

Quinn said nothing, and Heather listened to her breathing, trying to slow her heartbeat into something regular.

“I wish I knew what to tell you, Heather,” Quinn said finally.

“He told me to stay with Veronica. Would he do that if he was the one who hurt her?” She supposed it could be a manifestation of guilt, but he’d seemed so terrified, so desperate. Had guilt been a part of that?

There was a sudden commotion in the hall, and Heather dropped the phone to go look.

Veronica, bruised, broken, and shaking had staggered into the hall, looking around wildly like a trapped animal.

“Veronica?” Heather reached out towards her, stepping closer.

She flinched away. “Where’s Dominic?”

Heather could hardly believe she was standing, and couldn’t imagine how painful it must have been. “It’s okay, Ronnie. He’s…”

Veronica’s face went white under her bruises. “Where’s JD?”

“He’s… not here.” She didn’t know how to begin to explain what had happened, and she blanched in the face of Veronica’s terror.

“No.” Veronica’s whisper was hardly more than a breath, and it took Heather a second to realize it was a word. “He wouldn’t… He’s dead.”

“No!” Heather said, realizing she’d answered too quickly. She was doing everything wrong, and Veronica was panicking even more.

“Dominic killed him.” Veronica was shaking.

“No, Veronica—“

But she wasn’t listening. “He wouldn’t leave me to wake up alone. He knows…” Her voice was rising in pitch and volume, and nurses were beginning to surround her.

“Ronnie, listen to me—“

“No!” Suddenly she was yelling, tears falling from her eyes—something Heather had never seen—and she looked crazed.

A nurse grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms and forcing Heather to let go of her. Another one held Veronica’s arm while she shook and struggled, screaming in pain more than once. Finally, he got the shot into her vein, and Veronica went limp. Heather felt herself relax too, wishing she could collapse to the floor.

A fleet of nurses arrived with a stretcher and lifted Veronica onto it, wheeling her back towards her room.

Heather stopped one of them. “How long is she going to be unconscious?”

“A few hours at least.”

Nodding slowly, Heather let her go and returned to the phone.

“Quinn?” After all that had happened, she expected the line to be dead.

“Heather? Oh thank god. What the hell happened?”

Slowly, Heather repeated everything that had happened, as she did, her resolve solidified.

“Quinn, I need your help with something.”

* * *

JD dropped his head into his hands. It hurt. Everything hurt, but the migraine pounding behind his eyes was by far the worst, and the harsh lights of the interrogation room weren’t helping.

Neither were the two detectives who’d spent the last three and half hours alternately shouting and cajoling him in a perfectly predictable good cop/bad cop dynamic.

At some point they’d introduced themselves, but JD had been too distracted by the general frustrations of being arrested that he didn’t remember them. He was calling them Bert and Ernie.

Bert, the good cop, was taking his turn while Ernie left the room to “cool off”. “Look, we don’t want to scare you, but pretty guys like you don’t do too well in prison, Jason.”

 _You think I’m pretty?_ JD answered in his mind; since sitting down in this room, JD had said seven words. “I invoke my right to remain silent.”

Though it was challenging his smartass nature, he had maintained that silence perfectly for the whole time.

“You have to tell us something, buddy. Help us help you.”

JD snorted reflexively. He knew better than to think either of these jackasses was trying to help him.

“Something funny?” Bert asked.

JD said nothing.

“Look, let’s walk through this again. You get home and you see your girl with some guy. You knock her around a little bit, he tries to fight you so you kill him.”

 _Eat shit and die._ He had to bite his cheek to keep from spitting it in the detective’s face.

“The gun wasn’t registered, you have a record, you have to see where we’re coming from here. Without your story, we have to go by the facts we have.”

Their story was absolutely absurd, and JD wanted nothing more than to tell him that, but he knew how interrogations worked; anything he said could and would be used against him.

 _“_ Nothing to say?” Bert sighed. “I’m going to have to bring my partner back in here.”

He turned towards the door, taking far longer than necessary to walk the two steps to the door as if he was expecting JD to suddenly start bawling and confess the whole sordid tale.

He did not, and so Bert opened the door.

Ernie was on the other side, barely holding a coolly furious Heather Duke at bay.

“What the—“ Bert stepped back.

Ernie jerked his thumb at Heather. “This is Mr. Dean’s lawyer. I was just telling her that he hasn’t invoked.”

Heather locked eyes with JD.

He knew she wasn’t a lawyer. He knew she might think he’d attacked Veronica. He could definitely get a qualified lawyer if he tried.

He decided to trust her anyway.

“I invoke my right to a lawyer.”

Heather took her seat next to him and turned to face the detectives. “Don’t get comfortable, we won’t be here long.”

“Look, ma’am, I don’t think you understand the situation—“

“What I understand, Detective Whelling, is that my client was arrested under greatly exaggerated evidence—and I hesitate to call it that—and that you have no grounds to question him, much less arrest him.”

“The man was shot with his gun,” Whelling, who JD had been calling Ernie, said. “An unregistered gun, I might add.”

Heather turned to JD, who was slightly in awe. “Do you have an explanation for the lack of registration?”

“It was my dad’s gun; I assumed the registration for it was with his other papers.” None of Bud’s guns had been registered, and JD knew that— he’d taken advantage of that when he was in high school—but the lie was easy and reasonable.

The detectives exchanged a glance, but Heather’s expression didn’t waver, as if she had expected that answer. “Is that all you were keeping my client for?” She asked, “Because that’s an offense punishable by a fine, not prison.”

“There was a dead body in his apartment,” Whelling said. “That’s a reason for arrest, don’t you think, _Miss_ Duke?”

“Are you referring to the body of Dominic Hale?” Heather asked, and JD saw that her eyes were bright with excitement. Whatever her game was, the detectives were about to walk into it.

Bert nodded.

“Are you aware of the other victim, Miss Sawyer’s, connection to Dominic Hale?”

The detectives exchanged another glance.

Heather smiled. “I thought not. Miss Sawyer has filed a number of complaints against him in Columbus, Ohio, and Chicago, Illinois. He had been harassing her for a long time before she moved to Boston in an attempt to get away from him.”

This too, appeared to be news to the detectives, and JD could barely keep the victorious smile off his face.

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t do it,” Whelling said, jerking his thumb at JD. “He was arrested for murder in the past.”

JD watched Heather, waiting for the look of betrayal, but she seemed unsurprised by this information.

“Mr. Dean was wrongfully arrested in that case as well. I believe he received a formal apology from the police department.”

“It’s framed in my house,” JD added. He’d hung it up in his college dorm, but hadn’t put it up in his current apartment.

Heather gave him a quelling look before returning her attention to the detectives. “I also spoke to Mr. Dean’s neighbor, a woman named Mrs. Lewinsky—“

“Levitansky,” JD corrected.

“’Mrs. Levitansky. She heard the gunshot and reports having heard Mr. Dean’s footsteps _after_ it.”

“The old lady’s half deaf, she doesn’t know what she heard!” Bert, the former ‘good cop’ had lost his calm demeanor.

Heather barely blinked. “Detective Hodges, I recommend you stay calm.”

Hodges’s face was turning slightly purple, but he didn’t yell again. “That’s hardly solid evidence.”

“No. But when you consider the fact that Ms. Sawyer had previously been threatened by the victim, that it’s perfectly reasonable for her to have gotten access to the weapon used, and that there’s no evidence that my client _didn’t_ arrive after the shot was fired, I think you’ll find that this arrest, like the my client’s previous one, was a mistake.”

When the detectives made no move to argue, Heather stood up. “If you have any further questions, you’ll be able to find us at the hospital.”

Dragging JD by his sleeve, Heather exited the interrogation room. No one made any move to stop them until they got to a front desk, where the uniformed officer stood up.

“You can’t just—“

“Let them go,” A sheepish and disgruntled Hodges said. “There was a mistake.”

JD didn’t breathe until he was outside the building. When he’d gotten enough oxygen he turned to Heather. “What the hell… Is Veronica okay?” Though he was confused, she stayed at the center of his mind.

“Yes,” Heather answered, but JD caught a hint of something in her voice that he didn’t like.

“She woke up?” He already knew the answer. He could see it on her face.

“She woke up.”

There was a long pause while their breath fogged in the air between them. JD was dying to know what had happened, but he couldn’t form the words to ask.

“Heather…” He whispered.

“She woke up terrified. She didn’t remember killing Dominic and I didn’t know how to tell her and then she somehow decided you must be dead, and I didn’t know how to explain that either, so they knocked her out again.”

“But she remembered me?” JD asked, barely daring to hope.

“Yes. She kept saying that you had to be dead because you wouldn’t have left her alone at the hospital, I didn’t understand—“

“She left me,” JD explained. “The last time we spoke was right before she took me to the hospital. I passed out on the way there and didn’t see her again for ten years. She knows I wouldn’t do that because I know what it’s like to wake up alone.”

Heather took a deep breath. “Jesus what the fuck even happened to you guys?”

“I don’t think I could explain it. How did you do all that?” His change of topic was abrupt and unsubtle, but he didn’t want to be arrested again so soon after being sprung, so he kept his story to himself.

“Quinn helped me. She knew someone who knew someone in the Boston PD who got me some information about why they were holding you. From there, I built my case.”

“You aren’t a lawyer.”

Heather smiled. “I didn’t need to be. I said I was your representation and flashed my ID and no one bothered to double check. I could have been anyone and they wouldn’t have even noticed, much less cared.”

“You knew about my arrest?”

“Quinn came across it while researching in New York. Did you do it?”

“No,” He rolled his eyes. He was starting to get sick of being asked that. “Thank you, Heather. I really—“

“Whatever, let’s get to the hospital.”

Confused but no less grateful, JD followed her down the street so they could get a cab.

They walked together towards the waiting room, but before they got to the doors, Heather stopped him. “I’m not sure what kind of crazy you are, but I went out on a limb to help you because Veronica trusts you.”

“Not because you do?”

“We can’t both trust you at the same time.”

“I swear you want to like me.” JD attempted a smile.

Heather looked at him. “I’ll like you when we have an encounter that doesn’t surround Veronica getting hurt in one way or another.”

“I would like that too.”

There was a beat of awkwardness before they both shrugged past it and went into the hospital. They didn’t stop to speak to the receptionist, who JD suspected had called the cops and started their suspicion.

Veronica’s room was empty when they arrived, and she lay in the center, breathing evenly. Under the harsh fluorescent lights her bruises were stark against her pale skin, ruining the fairy tale image and any delusion that she could be woken with a kiss.

“She’ll be awake soon,” Heather said. “They promised. We’ll have to tell her what happened. To Dominic, I mean.”

JD just nodded. “I can do it.” It wouldn’t be the first time he’d informed Veronica that she’d killed someone.

He sat down and picked up Veronica’s hand, leaning against her bed and trying to get reasonably comfortable, something that took a long time due to the bad chair and the specific discomforts of trying to lean on someone else’s hospital bed.

“You look like shit,” Heather said, observing him from her own chair.

Rolling his eyes, JD shrugged. “It’s been a rough night.”

He knew he still had blood on his clothes, and that it had been long enough since he’d shaved to be noticeable. Beyond that, he felt the vast exhaustion of everything that had happened weighing on him so heavily it must have been visible somehow.

He didn’t just look like shit; he felt like shit.

“I should call Quinn and tell her that committing fraud effectively got you out of jail.” Heather looked at Veronica and didn’t move to leave.

JD reached out and put a hand on her arm. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

It was odd being alone in the semi-silence of Veronica’s room. It was awkward and empty, as though her missing consciousness were tangible.

“It’s been a long time since we had an awkward silence,” He said. The words fell flat in the stale air.

He remembered the first night she’d come over, barging into his apartment for a reason he couldn’t begin to fathom and temporarily occupying some of the empty space in his life. They had been awkward then, unsure of why’s and how’s still dancing around their history.

And now what? What were they? They hadn’t had time to figure it out.

“Veronica, you really need to wake up. We need to talk.” He smiled a little bitterly, squeezing her hand gently. For a second, he let himself imagine that he could feel her squeezing back.

He lifted her hand up and kissed it, holding it close against his face.

Heather walked back in and coughed a little to announce her presence.

“Quinn told me to tell you hello.”

“Did you thank her for me?”

Heather nodded and pulled up a chair next to him. “No change?”

“No.”

They were silent.

“I promised it would be okay.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes wide like he’d startled her out of very deep thoughts. “You didn’t know that it wouldn’t be.”

“Then I shouldn’t have promised.” He sighed. “I just want things to go back to normal.”

“What does normal look like for you?” Heather gave him a look like she didn’t believe he could have any concept of normal.

“There was a night, awhile ago, when Veronica and I were sitting on my couch watching a movie. My cat was sitting between us with his head on her lap. We had gotten takeout and eaten while we finished up some work. That’s normal.”

Heather smiled softly. “That’s the dream.”

And JD did dream about that when he eventually fell asleep, not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t think he could stay awake for another second.

When he woke up, Heather was gone and sunlight was streaming in through the dirty window, illuminating Veronica’s face.

He didn’t want to look at her. The longer he avoided it, the longer he could imagine that when he looked at her face, her eyes would be open, and she would be smiling.

But they weren’t, and she wasn’t.

JD fixed his grip on Veronica’s hand which had slipped while he slept, though he’d never quite let go of her. “Good morning,” He whispered.

Her heart monitor beeped steadily, and her chest rose and fell, though it was shallow and hard to see through all the bandages.

There was a slight rustle, the barest hint of a shift in her sheets as Veronica moved her arm just a little closer to him and her fingers twitched around his.

“Veronica?” His heart was pounding so hard he was dizzy, and his hands were shaking. He kept his eyes locked on her face.

Her eyes twitched, blinked, met his.

For a moment, her brows knit together in confusion, and JD felt his heart stop. Did she recognize him?

Veronica pulled her hand away from his and reached up, wincing in pain. Very gently, she brushed her fingers over his face. “JD?”

“Yes. I’m here, Veronica, it’s me.”

She tilted her head slightly. “This might be a stupid question.”

Choking down the desire to cry, JD said, “There are no stupid questions.”

“Are we dead?”

He shook his head. “No, darling. We’re alive.”

She smiled and laid her head back down, closing her eyes.

JD reached for the call button to summon the nurse, but Veronica put her hand over his. “Wait.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Will be soon,” She murmured. “I need to know…”

JD nodded and swallowed hard. “What do you remember?”

“I was at home and he came in. He hit me. I’m not… I got the gun, or he had it.” Her brows furrowed and she started to cough.

“Hey, easy, it’s okay. You both had guns.”

Veronica nodded. “Right. It’s a little fuzzy, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Veronica, we don’t have to do this right now.”

“Yes, I do.” Her voice was firm and determined, despite the slight wheeze in her breath.

He nodded, wishing he had her strength. “Okay.”

“He had a gun and he said he was going to kill you. That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up and I thought—” She stopped abruptly, looking at him.

“I’m fine.” He squeezed her hand and took a long breath. “Veronica, I don’t know how to tell you this. Dominic… you. You killed him.”

A million indecipherable expressions passed over Veronica’s face in an instant. “He’s dead?”

“Yes.”

She exhaled.

Laying her head down, Veronica’s eyes slipped closed. “I’m safe,” She whispered before drifting off again. JD carefully brushed her hair off her face and then summoned Veronica’s doctor.

Heather arrived with her and he told them both what happened, JD watched Veronica, hoping to see more movement.

“Those are very promising signs.” The doctor told him. “I’m going to up her dosage to control the pain. For the next couple days she’ll be in and out of consciousness so she can rest and heal. Try to help her fill in the holes in her memory when she’s awake. After that, assuming she’s made progress, we’ll be able to send her home.”

His heart skipped and started beating too fast. “What are you saying?”

The doctor smiled. “I’m saying she’s going to be fine.”

He locked eyes with Heather, smiling, before his vision blurred, and he finally let himself cry.


	18. How To Return Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. This is the last full chapter, but I'm working on a (very short) epilogue that might be up as soon as tomorrow. Thank you all so much for joining me on this difficult and amazing journey. Enjoy!

“Visiting hours are over,” A nurse said, her voice polite but firm.

For three days, JD had completely flouted the hospital’s visitation rules and no one had attempted to pry him from Veronica’s bedside, but they appeared to be drawing a line in the sand.

He looked at Veronica, hoping she would say something. He didn’t want to argue with the nurse, but he was ready to. When she said nothing, he spoke. “I’d really rather not—“

“Visiting hours are over. You can come back tomorrow at ten am.” She narrowed her eyes at the two of them before leaving the room. JD got the impression that she would be back shortly to make sure he had left.

“I don’t have to go. I’ll stay if you want me to.” He knew she wanted him to. The past three days had been punctuated by Veronica’s nightmares. She slept badly and woke up terrified as the gaps in her memory remained unfilled.

Each time, JD had explained what happened, answering her questions until she fell asleep again. If he left, this would be the first night she’d spent without him since Heather had gotten him out of jail.

“I mean it—“

“JD, you smell,” Veronica said, cutting him off. “Just go, I’ll be okay for tonight and I’ll see you tomorrow. You can come back, right?”

Hearing the faint trace of nerves in her voice, JD reached for her hand. “Of course. I’ll just go home, shower, and make sure Nostradamus is squared away and then I’ll come right back, I promise.”

She squeezed his hand. “Please sleep.”

“I’ll try.” Truthfully, he didn’t think he’d be able to rest knowing she was still here. He’d avoided leaving her alone since he’d returned to the hospital, terrified each time that he would return to find her suffering alone.

When he managed to rest, he dreamt about what she must have faced on her own. The memory of those dreams twisted his stomach.

“I wish Heather was still here,” He said. “I’d feel better about leaving—“

“I’m an adult, JD, you can leave me alone. Besides, I’m never alone; there’s always an army of health care professionals waiting to check up on my ribs or my brain or my ankle. I’ll hardly even notice you’re gone.”

JD tried to believe her because he knew she wanted him to, but walking away was a long process, and he looked back many times.

His apartment was a crime scene. It shouldn’t surprise him—who knew better than him that a crime had been committed here—but seeing the tape over his door was still startling.

Inside was worse. His furniture was still tossed around. He forced himself to look away from the bloodstains; otherwise he was sure he would vomit.

It was all too much to fix now, so he walked around it and went to his bedroom, which was thankfully untouched.

After a shower and a change of clothes, JD became aware of something wrong in the apartment. Beyond the eeriness of the stains on his carpet, couch, and the plans he’d left on the table, more than the hollowness of Veronica’s absence, there was something missing.

He did another quick lap, searching all the rooms before his fears were confirmed.

“Nosy?” It was stupid to call out. He should have known instantly, because Nostradamus would have come to the door to greet him, likely making a fuss because he’d been gone for so long.

Despite the late hour, JD knocked on his neighbors’ doors and asking if they’d seen his cat.

No one had.

In all the confusion after he had left the apartment with Veronica, Nostradamus must have slipped out and now he was god only knew where.

JD didn’t sleep well that night, despite his exhaustion and the shocking comfort of his bed after days of hunching over in hospital chairs.

Breaking the news to Veronica the next day was almost as bad as the panicked realization had been. Her face paled and her head dropped slowly.

“This is all my fault.”

He reached for her, carefully stroking her back and praying he wouldn’t touch any of her broken ribs, or one of the many bruises he knew she was hiding. “It isn’t. He probably just bolted during all the confusion. You didn’t do anything. I should have…”

She looked at him, her face painted in misery. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was in there for twenty minutes before I even noticed he was gone. I don’t… I feel terrible.” Veronica clasped his hand in hers. “Maybe he’ll come back? He’s very smart.”

Nostradamus was smart, but he’d been a stray before he’d come to live with JD, and JD wondered if that meant he wouldn’t need to come back, or want to.

But Veronica needed reassurance, so he forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, maybe he will.”

“When I get out of here, I’ll help you make posters. We’ll find him.”

He could see the guilt she was hiding, and that hurt just as bad as his failure to take care of his cat. “Yeah.”

Three more days went by before the doctors told Veronica she could go home. JD spent the nights on Veronica’s couch, now that her place was fixed enough to be habitable, though it still smelled like smoke.

The stench was worth enduring if it meant he didn’t have to return to his disturbingly empty, bloodstained apartment. He took blankets from his place and piled them on the couch so he could leave a window open, just in case Nostradamus happened to decide to come visit Veronica like he had months ago.

It was wishful thinking, and probably foolish, but JD endured the cold anyway and fell asleep hoping each night.

He and Veronica took a taxi back to their building, he carefully helped her inside and up the stairs, wincing each time she did.

“Are you—“

“Jason Dean if you ask me if I’m okay one more time, I’ll shoot you again.” She glared at him, as stubborn, determined, and beautiful as ever.

JD looked away, embarrassed. He knew her well enough to know that she hated to be coddled and probably took it as pitying or condescending, but he didn’t think she’d really seen herself recently. Her bruises were dark ink stains spilled across her cheeks and beneath the collar of her shirt. He knew there were more he hadn’t seen. She leaned on a cane to support the ankle she’d broken and every step seemed to be agony on her broken ribs.

She stopped every few steps to calm her still-spinning head, and each time he stood and hovered uselessly, wishing there was something he could do.

After four flights of stairs, it was clear she was sick of it.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” She whispered, meeting his eyes.

He nodded, looking away. “I know. I just…” Could he tell her that he couldn’t forget how she’d looked when he’d barged into his apartment? Or how she’d looked lying on her hospital bed? “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“You may want to leave for the next month then,” She said wryly. “Come on, we’re almost there.” She stepped closer to him, and he gently supported her next couple steps.

It was slow going, but eventually they made it to her apartment.

“I forgot how bad it smells in here,” Veronica said idly, sitting delicately on her faded floral couch.

“You get used to it after a couple minutes.” JD circled the apartment, moving furniture so Veronica would have less to trip over and something to lean on every couple of steps if she decided to walk to her bedroom, the kitchen, or her bathroom.

He could feel her eyes on him as he walked. “Are we going to talk about it?” Her voice didn’t break the tension, instead JD felt like she had pulled it even tighter.

“You don’t have to.”

“JD… I’m sorry.”

He stopped, nearly knocking over the bookshelf he’d been shifting. “What?”

“I’m sorry for everything. I came into your life and lied about a million things and then this happened and—“

“I don’t… You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not… Did you think I was mad?”

“I ran a bulldozer through your life, I would understand if you were mad—“

“Well, I’m not.” He crossed the room and put his hands on her shoulders, careful to avoid hurting her, but making sure she was looking him in the eye. “None of this is your fault, and I have _never_ been mad at you for anything that happened.”

She sighed. “Are you going to pretend that everything hasn’t gotten worse for you since I got here?”

JD snorted. “Right. I was just thinking the other day how much I miss being alone all the time and talking to my cat so I wouldn’t lose my fucking mind.” Thinking about Nostradamus stung, but he pushed it aside.

“The other day you had an apartment and a cat and before I showed up—“

“Before you showed up I was alone and I was scared of myself and I had never loved anyone!”

Silence dropped over them like tossing a blanket over a lamp. They stared at each other, shocked at what he’d said.

‘’I…” He’d already said it; he may as well go all the way. “I love you, Veronica.”

Her eyes darted around like she was looking for an escape.

Gently taking her hand, JD said, “I don’t need you to say it back. After everything, I wouldn’t be surprised if you never said that, to me or anyone. But… I’d like you to stay with me.”

She relaxed visibly, her shoulders dropping and a hint of a smile touching her lips. “Alright.” The smile widened slightly. “Our love is god?”

“Jesus, you know, if you’re going to be forgetting things, could you maybe start with the dumbass shit I said in high school?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s seared into my brain forever.”

They fell silent again, a little said despite their joking. Veronica’s memory was spotty when it came to what had happened to her, and he couldn’t imagine how frightening it was to not remember everything.

No one alive knew exactly what had happened to Veronica that day and he could tell that thought disturbed her.

Leaning forward, he kissed her softly. It was a quiet moment, equal parts sad and hopeful, suspended between them.

She broke it first. “Can you get my phonebook? I think it’s under the sink.”

“That’s an odd place to keep that.” He went to the kitchen and dug through her newly finished cabinets, which the workers had kindly refilled for her.

JD made a mental note to call Marty and thank him. JD had had to tell him that Veronica was in the hospital and thus hadn’t seen her refinished kitchen, and he could tell Marty had his guys make an extra effort because of it.

He brought the book into the living room and set it down next to Veronica. “Who are you calling? Someone at work?”

“No. I called Sasha to let her know that she would need to use the backlog letters for a few days because I was in the hospital.”

“Did you—“

“I told her it was an accident. I don’t know how I’ll explain everything….” She sighed and began to thumb absently through the phonebook, staring into space.

JD shrugged. “You don’t have to tell them anything you don’t want to.”

Veronica looked at him sideways. “JD, I look like I joined a fight club, I can’t just walk in and say nothing.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

She laughed at smacked at his arm. “I’m serious! How the hell do I explain this?”

Smile fading, JD shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Sighing, Veronica rested her head on his shoulder, shifting awkwardly around the pain in her ribs. JD watched, trying not to feel sick, hating that she was in pain and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Are you—“

“Don’t.” She pinned him with a glare and he almost smiled.

Veronica turned her full attention to the phonebook, clearly changing the topic. She flipped through it until she found the section she was looking for. “Animal shelters. Let’s make some calls and see if anyone brought Nostradamus in.”

Absurd tears pricked at the corners of JD’s eyes. He’d been trying to downplay how worried he was about Nostradamus, and of course Veronica had noticed anyway.

They weren’t successful. The shelters that answered their phones didn’t report any cats that matched Nostradamus’s description.

Exhausted and frustrated, JD put the phone down. “It was worth trying.”

“There are still more—“

“Not tonight.” He wasn’t sure he could handle any more surges of hope and disappointment after such an emotional week.

He stood and helped Veronica do the same, carefully leading her to her bedroom and kissing her gently. “Goodnight.”

He turned to go, but she caught his arm. “You aren’t staying?”

JD shifted awkwardly. “I don’t… You should—“

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was low, quiet. He wasn’t even sure she’d heard him for a second.

Veronica stepped closer and wrapped her arms around him, something that was probably painful. JD flinched on her behalf.

“You’re not going to hurt me. Can we please just…” She trailed off and looked at him, unsure, awkward, embarrassed, or something else he couldn’t read.

The truth was that he didn’t want to sleep on her couch again. They’d spent two nights together and yet he’d missed it every day they hadn’t.

Swallowing hard, JD nodded and let her lead him to the bed.

JD slept badly, hyperconscious of the fact that he could roll over and accidentally jostle her or nudge her broken ribs, and his dreams were confusing, stressful and smoky. But at least it was a step towards normal.

* * *

Veronica watched JD. She knew he was watching her too; he flinched every time she did and was too quick to jump up and try to help her when she moved. As nice as it was to be able to rest, Veronica was getting bored and restless.

Things were almost back to normal, though they stayed in Veronica’s apartment now while JD’s was professionally cleaned and the carpet replaced. She wasn’t sure they’d be able to go back there. Something about what had happened there hung in the air, and Veronica doubted she would ever feel as safe there as she once had. She missed it bitterly, hating that in dying, Dominic had managed to take one more thing from her.

At least she was finally cleared from potential legal action. After getting a testimony from JD, and hearing what little Veronica remembered, and getting documentation of her injuries from the hospital, the courts had quickly ruled that Dominic’s death was self-defense and she was cleared of any potential charges. She had never even been officially arrested.

A part of her found it funny—in a twisted way—that JD had been arrested for a murder she’d committed.

On the way out of the courthouse, he had put his arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “No more murder, okay?”

She had smiled. “No more.”

And their routine had slowly returned. She didn’t cook much; it still hurt too much to stand for long periods of time, but they sat at her cramped kitchen table and worked, getting takeout when they were hungry.

It had been a couple of weeks, and the only thing missing was Nostradamus, whose absence was a sad and tangible thing in the evenings when he should have been curled up between them while they watched TV.

Veronica made calls every day, chasing leads of shelters or foster homes he might have ended up in, but even her determination was waning. JD had already started the grieving process, and her heart ached for him. A part of her still believed it was her fault and longed to make it right.

So she kept calling, and kept trying, asking every shelter she called to look out for a cat that looked like Nostradamus, and begging them to call her if one turned up.

When the phone rang, she leapt up from her seat at the table, where she’d been half-heartedly working on Heather letters. “Hello?”

“Hi, Veronica!” Heather’s voice was cheerful and brusque, and Veronica, though happy to hear from her, had to bite down disappointment that it wasn’t the phone call she was waiting for.

“How are you?” She forced some cheerfulness into her voice for Heather’s sake.

“I’m doing well. I wanted to check in. How are you feeling?”

“Fine. My ribs still hurt, but I can get around without my cane and the bruises are barely visible now.” Technically she still needed the cane to go anywhere outside her apartment, but Heather didn’t need to know that.

“That’s a relief.” Cautiously, Heather said, “How’s JD?”

Veronica bit down a laugh. The odd, tentative respect that had grown between the two of them was still hilarious to Veronica. It was clear that they didn’t _want_ to like each other, but that they couldn’t help it.

“He’s doing well. I’ll tell him you said hello. How’s Quinn?”

Heather sighed and for a moment Veronica envied the plain joy in the sound. “She’s good. We’re thinking about visiting Boston again soon, just for fun this time.”

Veronica could see right through Heather’s attempt at casualness. “You don’t have to check up on me, I’m doing really well.”

“I’m not—“

“Heather.”

“Alright, fine, I’m checking in, but only because I love you.”

“Thanks, Heather. If you decide to come down, we’d love to see you.”

“Good. Oh shit, my boss is staring at me. I should go before he realizes this is a personal call. Talk to you soon, okay?”

Smiling, Veronica nodded. “Of course. Have a good day.”

She hung up the phone and returned to her letters. She had barely gotten comfortable in her chair when the phone rang again.

Minutes later, JD returned. His arms were full of groceries and he called a greeting just as she hung up the phone.

“You seem happy.” He stepped up behind her and kissed her.

She was beaming. “I am. Keep your coat on, we’re going out.”

JD glanced over at the table, where some of his plans were scattered. “I was about to—“

“I think I found him.”

He froze, staring. Of course he knew immediately who she was talking about. “Are you sure?”

“We can’t be sure until we check. Let’s go!”

JD was a shaking, nervous wreck for the entire taxi ride to the shelter. Veronica put her hand on his knee to stop him from bouncing it, but it didn’t seem to help.

“It’ll be alright,” She whispered. They were useless words, and empty, because she wasn’t sure they would find him. She was buzzing with nerves as well, but trying to keep it under control for his sake.

The teenager working at the shelter looked at them oddly, but obligingly led them back to look at the cats. JD clung to Veronica’s hand, glancing at her occasionally to show the shining mix of fear and hope in his eyes.

She squeezed his hand reassuringly and followed the worker through the rows of cages.

He noticed JD before JD noticed him, and a series loud, disgruntled meows issued from the cage.

JD leapt forward, reaching his fingers into the cage and accepting the fondly furious bites that Nostradamus was placing on them.

The teenager was watching this, finally expressing an emotion beyond the mild boredom he’d been displaying. Smiling, he nudged JD aside so he could unlock the cage.

Nostradamus—typically rather opposed to being held—leapt immediately into JD’s arms.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m so sorry.” JD was stroking his head, and Nostradamus appeared to be torn between purring and continuing his affronted scolding. “I’m so sorry it took me so long.”

Veronica looked away, feeling like she was intruding on something private. She paced away from JD and the worker, perusing the cats, most of whom ignored her.

One, however, caught her eye. He stared at her evenly, almost expectantly with wide green eyes.

“JD?” Veronica said.

He turned immediately, still cradling Nostradamus.

“We’re getting another cat.”

Instead of questioning her, JD crossed the aisle and joined her, staring at the kitten in front of them.

It was more than a little comical, with his round eyes and disproportionate ears, which grew, long and stretched like afternoon shadows, over his head. He didn’t make any noise, but he stared at them with a curious, expectant expression, as though he was waiting for something.

“Him?” JD asked.

“Him.”

Turning to the worker, JD said. “We’re bringing both of them home.”

Wide eyed, the worker nodded. “Alright. There are some papers and—“

Veronica tuned him out. She gently took Nostradamus from JD and cuddled him. “I’m sorry for everything, Nosy. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Rather than the accusatory yowls JD had gotten, Nostradamus purred and stretched affectionately in her arms, as though accepting her apology. She couldn’t hold him for long—she was nervous he might move wrong and push on her ribs—but for a moment, it was comforting to hold him.

“I missed you.”

Nostradamus purred again and allowed himself to be deposited into JD’s arms.

That night, Veronica and JD sat on her couch watching Copernicus attempt to engage a disinterested Nostradamus in any kind of play.

Veronica rested her head on JD’s shoulder, smiling at their idiot cats.

JD was smiling at her. He kissed her head and she could feel the curve of his lips.

“Can I show you something?” He asked.

She nodded, shifting so he could get up. He returned with the plans he’d been working on, which he spread out on her coffee table.

Immediately, both cats leapt up on it to investigate the mysterious new paper. JD shooed them off so Veronica could see.

“It’s a house,” She said decisively. “With a lot of windows. Oh! It’s the cottage design. Who were you doing this for again?”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I… I want to do it for us.”

“What?”

She stared at him, shocked. He looked nervous, fiddling with the edge of the plans and wiping at imaginary dust on the pristine paper.

“I was just working on it for something to do between projects but… I want to build it, Veronica, and live in it. Together.”

When she still couldn’t find words, he babbled on, his voice growing rougher as he got excited. “I know we haven’t been together very long, but it’ll take months to build, and we’ve already been living together for weeks. I just think we could make this work, and I want to. We’ll buy some land near the beach and—”

Veronica stopped him with a kiss. “I’d like that.”


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. I hope to see you in the Kudos and comments for my next fic. Enjoy!

JD and Veronica were standing in front of a door. She was frozen in fear, and he held her shaking hand, stroking it with his thumb.

“It’s going to be okay.”

She looked at him. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“You don’t have to be. Just do what you can, take it step by step.”

“You’ll be waiting for me?”

“Absolutely. Maybe someday we can go in together.” For today though, Veronica would have to face this alone. He squeezed her hand softly.

It hadn’t been easy to get her to come here, and she looked ready to bolt, but she held her ground and faced the door.

“You really think this is going to help?”

He nodded. He’d been there for her nightmares, for the lapses in memory, and for the days when she couldn’t leave the apartment because she was sure someone was out there, watching and waiting. He loved her, but she needed more than that.

He had recruited Heather’s help, and together, they had talked her into this.

“I’m sure.”

She nodded, though he could tell she was still skeptical.

The door swung open, and Cab smiled at them. “You must be Veronica, I’m Dr. Cab, JD’s therapist. I’d like to introduce you to my colleague, Dr. Parker.”

A woman stepped around Cab and offered her hand to Veronica. “It’s lovely to meet you. Let’s step into my office so we can chat.”

Tossing one last anxious glance back at JD, Veronica followed her into the room.

JD watched her go.

Cab looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“It took a lot of convincing to get her to come here. I want it to help.”

“And you’re worried it won’t?”

JD nodded.

Smiling softly, Cab gestured into his office. JD followed him in and settled into his usual seat. He had a lot to talk about.

* * *

Veronica sat opposite Dr. Parker. Nerves fluttered in her stomach and she looked around, finding only one door into and out of the office, and a wide window that looked out over the rain-flooded street.

Dr. Parker wasn’t looking at her, which Veronica found rather odd. She had expected this session to be full of intense eye contact and probing questions about her feelings. So far, however D. Parker had maintained both silence and distance.

Finally, Veronica started to relax into the quiet room, noticing the wooly smell of the carpet, overlaid with whatever scented candle Dr. Parker had lit in the corner. It was not—she decided—an unpleasant room, and Dr. Parker was not an unpleasant person.

“Have you been to any kind of therapy before, Veronica?” Dr. Parker asked, her voice calm, low, and quiet.

Veronica shook her head. She had probably needed it many times, but she had never wanted to pursue it.

“Do you know much about it?”

“Just what JD has told me.”

“And those things have been mostly positive?” She looked at Veronica over the wire rim of her glasses.

Veronica thought it over, and though a part of her wanted to, she couldn’t think of anything negative JD had ever said about his therapist, or therapy in general. “Yes. And… He makes me think it could work.”

“Tell me more about that.”

That was a story Veronica wasn’t sure she wanted to get into, but it was easier to tell than her more recent stories. “JD and I knew each other in high school. He’s… completely different now. Well, not completely, but he’s better.”

“Better?”

“Better than he used to be. Happier and not…” Could she say crazy? Would that reveal too much? “He’s different. When we knew each other we were both hurting and we handled it badly and it kind of… tore us apart. But then we met again, he was so different.” She hadn’t meant to say so much, but it almost felt good.

“Do you want to talk about that?”

It wasn’t why she was supposed to be here. She had intended to sit in this office, say as little as possible, get over her nightmares and the terror she sometimes felt standing in front of windows or going outside, and never come back, but maybe it would be nice. Telling even a heavily edited version of what had happened would be a first for Veronica, and yet it was tempting.

“Yes.” After a long pause to breathe, she began. “It started with three girls named Heather.”


End file.
